Thank You, Elvis
by Klytie
Summary: When Alice and Jasper arrive at the Cullens back in the 50's, Jasper discovers something besides a new family. Edward x Jasper slash. AU. UPDATED 11-18-10
1. Chapter One

**Title:** Thank You, Elvis

**Rating:** M

**Pairing:** Edward x Jasper

**Warnings: **Slash, some sexual content, angst, some minor violence, AU

**Summary:** When Alice and Jasper arrive at the Cullens back in the 50's, Jasper discovers something besides a new family. Edward x Jasper slash. AU.

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**Part One: The Encounter**

_Every moment marked with apparitions of your soul.  
I'm ever swiftly moving; trying to escape this desire.  
The yearning to be near you,  
I do what I have to do._

--- Sarah Mclachlan

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**Edward**

_Monday, November 23, 1953_

I can recall when I first saw – well, _heard_ – them.

It was twilight, the brilliant sun having finally died down and submitted to night, and I was hunting: big game. It wasn't because I was exceptionally thirsty, but more or less a result of the school girls' silly reactions towards me. There was one in particular, with soft, doe eyes and brown waves, who never shied away from me, instead always approaching me, and it was a bit disconcerting, unsettling. It didn't help that her scent was sweet and floral and divine; she'd practically throw it into my face at times, coy smile on her lips. Sometimes, I'd even venture to wonder if she knew what she did to me.

I caught the scent of a mountain lion – my favorite prey – and tore after the faint trail, which was mixed with the flavors of the earth: the tang of impending rain, the hum of lightning and a far-off storm; the spice of the forest; the raw tastes of blood caressing my tongue. Up above, the air crackled. It wouldn't be long before the threatening weather hit the area.

Then, I caught the scent of vampires. I stopped, back ramrod straight, and sniffed the air, tasted it with my tongue, dividing the taste of it from the natural odors of the earth.

There were two separate tracks; mates, perhaps – new to the area – I had never met them before, at least. It was slightly stale, but fresh enough that they could have passed through mere moments before. Instantly, I veered off my course, tracking the vampires' trails, which headed towards our home. My _home_. Suddenly, hunting didn't seem like such an enormous priority.

Maybe they were passing through. Perhaps they had caught our trails and followed them, curious, as I was about them. It had happened before.

However, I still needed to reach Carlisle and seek out his advice, not just because he was my father, but because his experience would aid us tremendously in this situation. It was in desperate times like these that I wished others could read my mind as I could theirs.

Faster and faster I pushed myself, casting my mind out to search for foreign "voices".

But there was nothing, not even the breath of stirred air under fleeing feet or the whisper of a habitual breath. I sensed no minds near me, and so slowed down for a moment, hesitating.

Where were they?

My mind flickered through several possible explanations – some ludicrous, others plausible – before deciding that the best course of action would be to continue moving and seek safety in the numbers of my family.

Five seconds after pausing in my fierce sprint, I sped up, running to my home, miles and miles away from this area.

I just hoped that God would take some pity on the damned and allow my family and I to regroup before we were forced to take action.

It was only when I was a half-dozen miles from the security of my white castle when I heard them.

_God, I hope Alice was right about her vision; otherwise we're as good as done._

**Jasper**

Usually when Alice tells me what to do, I listen. Usually when she tells me to run, I run; duck, I duck; stay in some dinky hotel because the sun will be unrelenting, and I sign us into a place without a moment of hesitation.

However, as soon as I came across the mixed trails of "Esme", "Emmett", "Rosalie", "Carlisle", and "Edward" (as my wife so fondly called them), I began to worry; my inner warrior was very, very concerned.

I had made it through thousands of battles in my hundred-or-so years, and had learned the basics of survival: be wary, learn your surroundings, keep on your toes, feed whenever you can, and, most importantly, if possible, avoid being outnumbered.

Yet my sweet Alice was currently dragging me, urging me on with her words, displeased with my tentative pace.

"Jasper, we have to hurry before Edward catches our scent, or else we'll never make it in time!" The dark-haired pixie tugged on my hand, pulling me forward. "If he finds our trail before we've made it to the house, he'll chase us, and if he does, he'll make me break my new shoes! He's too fast for us." She pouted.

That was my wife, always worrying more about the state of her clothes than the fact that this Edward could deal us some serious harm. Inside my head, images of purple smoke, heavy and choking with the scent of burned sugar, filled my mind. I was not so naïve as to believe that this coven would welcome us with open arms, without questions.

No, instead I mentally prepared for a fight, pushing the sleeves of my shirt to my elbows, unbuttoning the first two buttons on my shirt. Intimidation was the first thing on my mind. I knew that my unsettling scars made others fear me, sensing my lethal danger. The way I figured it, once they saw how many I had killed and how many had failed to kill me, they'd be less likely to involve in a fight, unless they wished to risk losing a mate.

"Jazz," she sighed, reluctantly understanding my actions, but thankfully said no more. I was glad; it made it easier to focus on manipulating the emotions of my wife. Sending her a gentle vibe of relaxation and confidence, I sighed, wishing I could feel as sure as she did.

Instead, I planned for the worse-case scenarios. I knew what to do if they attacked, or harmed us, or rejected us, but I had no idea what would happen if they accepted us.

Yes, in the beginning I had been optimistic. When Alice had told us that there could be a family, a different life, for us, I was ecstatic. But now...the nerves had gotten to me.

I groaned, looking ahead.

In a few short minutes, we'd find our possible "family" and learn whether or not they'd accept us.

I was terrified, scared shitless.

I felt a small hand squeeze mine one. "It'll be fine; don't worry. Trust the psychic."

I turned to meet her wide grin and gave a tiny smile in return.

"I know, Ali." And I did. "But…"

"But you wish the doubts would instantly disappear?" she finished quirking a slim brow. God, she knew me well.

"Yes."

"Trust me. This'll work perfectly; I've seen it." But then she flinched, and I was a whole lot more than just doubting or concerned. Now, I wanted nothing more than to turn around and head back to our motel.

As I opened my mouth to speak my worries, an iron hand held my jaw shut.

"Jasper Whitlock, if you even dare question me once more, I swear I will tie you up and leave you here for Edward to find and question while I go meet the family," she threatened. "Overprotective fool."

So, with a nervous chortle, I resolved to keep my thoughts to myself.

It wasn't too difficult. My mind was humming like a beehive, full of doubts and hopes and worries and concerns and desperation, all jumbled together into a heaping stew. Alice was lucky I had such a tight lid on my powers right now, or else she'd be feeling the nerves and desires equal to a thousand ancient warriors preparing for battle.

And then, before I realized it, we were on the fringes of the forest, and stepping through the last stretches of trees to our new "family".

On the steps of a pristine home stood a family of four consisting of two females and two males. One, the older man, had a warm smile on his face, but as soon as he saw my scars, his grin shrunk by a few molars. The younger, muscular man pushed his mate behind him, flexing his biceps in warning. They were both instantly on the defensive.

I chuckled. It was good to be feared, at least in this case.

Alice had no reservations, dancing out of the underbrush and racing up the cement steps to hug the two women.

"Esme, Rosalie! It's so good to see you! You have no idea how long we've had to search for you – well, you know how long it can take to track someone down, I'm sure – but I can't wait to see the house, especially that gorgeous sofa! Oh," she faced the pair of slack-jawed men. "I can't believe I forgot to say hello to you two! Well, Carlisle, I'd say we'll be seeing a lot of each other soon, especially once we move in. Emmett – stop harassing my husband! Well, I do say, this place is so much lovelier in person and I wanted to ask which room we'd get…"

And on and on she went, never pausing for more than a short breath. I saw Emmett, the muscular, taunting one, look astonishingly at me and mouth, "Is she for real?"

I smirked, nodding.

Then, by some miracle, my little pixie stopped, and it was silent; no one knew what to say. What could be said? _Hi, I'm Jasper and I can control your emotions; I hail fresh from the vampire wars. Alice sees the future, but remembers nothing of her past. Oh, did I forget to mention that, apparently, we're to join your coven and feed off animals for the rest of eternity_?

I didn't think so.

But Esme, the elder woman, invited us inside after a pause, like a good hostess, hesitant smile on her face.

And we entered the house, and everything seemed to pass in a blur.

I remember influencing the coven's emotions to be more welcoming towards us.

I remember Carlisle officially welcoming us into his home.

I remember Alice telling the coven our tale, with little input from me.

I remember hearing Alice whisper conspiratorially to Rosalie that she was going to steal Edward's room – it had the best view.

I remember moving boxes upon boxes of books and records and an enormous piano into the garage, listening to my wife's tittering.

I remember Alice telling me that I had to be very careful around Edward after his arrival, on account of his fury – especially once he realized we had moved his stuff out into the garage.

And I remember hearing the flurry of footsteps, the soft pitter-patter of quick feet, the pause and cry of rage when he discovered his possessions in the garage, and the flavor of his swift anger on my tongue, like warmed steel or iron.

_Burning_, consuming metal like nothing before.

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** A/N: Kisses to Starfish422 for fixing my awful grammer :)**


	2. Chapter Two

**Edward**

"Who the _hell_ moved my stuff?" I yelled, angrily casting my mind out for the culprits. "What the fuck happened to _my _room?"

_Uh-oh. Let's just hope that he'll accept his new room_, I heard a giggling, unfamiliar female think.

Rosalie, apparently, was in on this too, and not very sympathetic. _Oh, just suck it up, Edward. Live with it – you have a new room_.

Carlisle was a better source of information. _Edward, we have two new family members. Please come inside and meet them, then all will be explained._

I hoped it would be; my beautiful piano was dejectedly lying in front of the open garage, boxes upon boxes of my books and sides spilling onto the concrete. Further back, near our cars, my couch was perched, alone. All my prized possessions were now moved into this cramped space.

Exhaling, teeth gritted, I began the short walk to the front of the house. My hands were bunched tight, trying to stave off the quick ire that consumed me.

_Metal_, I heard someone think. _Bitter, sharp metal._

Were they already planning on what to do with my now-empty room? Add metal to it? Cover the walls in it? I had no idea. I closed the walls of my mind off, safe to rage inside my head.

"Carlisle," I spoke softly, voice quivering in anger, "Why are my belongings in the garage?"

I heard his sigh. _Just come inside. One of the new family member – Alice – will tell you why_. Inside his mind, he smiled, sending me an image of a hyper, dark-haired woman. _But let me warn you about her: she's...interesting. Don't be shocked if she greets you by name and begins to talk with you as if you were great friends._

Lovely. Apparently, one of our new family members was delusional.

"And the other one?"

_Jasper's very cautious. C__ome inside and meet them; you'll understand_.

Apparently, no secrets would be spilled until I met this pair. With swift steps, I bounded up the walkway to the open door.

Stepping inside the bright room – barely keeping a lid on my emotions, barely keeping profanities from spilling through my lips – I first faced my well-known and accepted family – well, maybe not bitter Rosalie – and then the unknown couple.

The woman's height was the first thing I noticed; she was dwarfed by the man and my family. In the style of the times, she wore a blue-gray swing dress, white Peter Pan collar starched straight, and snowy gloves. She was bouncing on her high heels, an enormous smile tugging at her lips. I almost thought she'd tackle me with a hug for a moment. She greeted me in my mind, which surprised me.

_Hi, Edward! I hope you're not too angry that I moved into your room_.

My eyes widened momentarily before settling upon the other visitor.

The man was...fierce. His shirt sleeves were pulled up to expose countless white scars that feathered across his skin, sparkling in the dim lamplight. His eyes were tinged a dull reddish gold – a recovering addict. His body was tense. Instinctively, I hissed, resisting the urge to settle into a crouch.

_No, no, no. Not good, not good, not good_, I heard him chant. His eyes were wide.

Then, for some odd reason, my tensed muscles relaxed without my consent, and my mind calmed. I raised an eyebrow at the pair. Already I could tell that the man was a fream, and the woman was just odd. Even in our world, they didn't fit in.

_Don't look at me; I didn't do anything_! Alice looked very innocent, but I knew it was just a bit.

Of course, it was nothing, I was sure. Ha!

"Edward," Carlisle began, "This is Alice and Jasper. They came a long way to join our family."

I nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Now, would you mind telling me why all my stuff is outside?" My words were quick, impolite. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Esme frown. I stubbornly ignored her.

Alice was the first to step forward, hugging me. I froze, looking down at the strange girl.

"Oh, Edward, we didn't realize it was your room; it was just the room with the best view. You can't blame a girl for wanting to see the beauty of the wilderness!" She pouted, and I felt my anger slip away.

I stepped out of her arms, breaking her embrace. "No, of course not." My voice was dripping sarcasm.

Her face scrunched, then relaxed. I saw a picture of us talking, smiling inside her head, for just a brief flash before it disappeared.

She giggled. "Oh, I knew you'd forgive me! Now, it may not be until tomorrow, or next week, but you will. We'll be great friends!"

I raised my eyebrows at her. "Mm-hmm." I didn't think so; I was far too angry at her to ever forgive her.

Carlisle chose then to speak up. "Alice can predict the future."

"No, not predict it," she contradicted, holding up a gloved finger. "I can see the possible events or actions that take place in the future. They don't become clear until they've been decided by someone."

Was it my imagination, or did she tense as she spoke the last few words? I tried to break through her mind, only to discover her recounting the French alphabet.

I raised an eyebrow. "That's amazing." I wasn't just referring to her talent, either.

"I know."

I forced a smile. It looked more like a grimace. "Well, if you don't mind, I ought to go fix up my new room, eh?"

All but Alice winced.

_Harsh, Edward_, Emmett whispered.

I disregarded him. Even in my new, calmer state of mind, I was still tense, mulishly holding onto the last traces of rage.

She vigorously nodded. "Please, do," she chirped. "And might I suggest that you move the cars to the driveway instead of throwing them onto the lawn? You'll crush Esme's flowers otherwise."

_Shit._

"Fine." And with a swift goodbye, I left the house to go set up my new room.

**Jasper**

"You're so lucky, Jazz! Edward already likes you, but he's so angry I have to wait a full _week_ before he'll even talk to me!" Alice fell backwards onto our brand-new bed in a huff. "Can't you just influence his emotions? It would make everything so much easier."

I smiled, shaking my head, putting aside my book. The title? _Psychopathia Sexualis_. "No can do, darlin'. It'd be dishonest." And some strange part of me wanted to have him like me, and only me.

And that desire scared me, floored me. It wasn't acceptable – _it wasn't right! _– and I couldn't help but think the same thing over and over: _no, no, no, no, no!_ I couldn't explain it; all I knew was that the moment I first laid eyes upon his startlingly perfect figure – enraged, butterscotch eyes; messy bronze hair that begged to have fingers...my fingers...running through it; piano hands; flawless white skin; kissable lips – I _wanted_ him.

Where, or rather when, I was from, desires like that were unacceptable. Even now, a hundred or so years later, the very idea of a man being something more than a friend to another man was abhorrent!

And I did want more, from the moment I saw him. Pictures of us holding hands, talking, kissing, touching...they flashed through my mind at warp speed whenever I thought of him. I violently shoved those thoughts away into the back of my mind to analyze later, terrified of what they might mean.

It had been so hard, so, so difficult, to keep a rein on my emotions and stop them from spilling into his mind. I could almost see his reaction: revulsion and disgust that drowned the mind with murky water, hatred that bubbled in the blood like acid, avoidance that iced over the soul and heart.

Once he'd left the room, I resolved to stay as far away from him as I could, avoiding his perfect skin and sex hair and smoldering eyes. It was a safety measure: if I could avoid him, not see him, then he'd never discover my abnormal attraction to him and maybe, just maybe, I'd grow out of it.

Alice had warned me of his talents before we had arrived, so I already had a faint mental wall intact at all times. Since I had discovered my newfound affections, however, I'd studiously built up the mental wall, adding layer upon layer to it so that I could concentrate on many things at once while the front of my mind was focused on something insignificant. I tried to keep my mind focused, if by chance I ever came near him again. In a constant state of horror at the possibility that he might be listening in at any time, and what he might hear, I wasn't a cube anymore.

"That's just what you think." She pouted. "I'd say you do it anyways! It would help your poor, sweet wife out of a sticky situation."

I sighed. "I know, Ali. I know. But at the same time, it'd be better if you'd let him accept you naturally, rather than try to speed up the process. Surely you can see that."

"Yes, but I can't help being impatient." Her beautiful gold eyes – so close, so similar – beseeched me as her lips trembled.

Forcing a laugh, I countered, "You're so silly, my beautiful wife! Come here."

I pushed away the thought of their similar eyes, and focused instead on the differences: curly black hair, not messy bronze; tiny, not tall; smoldering and dark and practically dripping self-hate and inadequacy – brooding, not hyper and light and sweet, peaceful, loving. Then there was the obvious: he was a man, and I was a man, but Alice was a woman. Men belonged with women, not men. Those reasons were why I was with Alice, my other half; we connected.

I couldn't help but panic, though, even as I attempted to reassure myself. Yes, I had found the occasional man attractive before, just like I had with many women, but usually I could ignore the temptations to kiss, to hold, to care for, to love. I was never more than slightly tempted to act on those impulses. But with Edward, I felt as though if I even saw him, I'd lose control of the tight grip I had on my emotions and thoughts and ravish him.

It was _disturbing_ to say in the least.

I picked her up, wrapping my arms around her in a tight embrace. Alice, my Ali, my love, my wife...but those sayings were bittersweet on my tongue, like a goodbye. I didn't want to think about another, about his names: Edward, my dark angel, my demon...my _fantasy_, my one wish.

She swiveled in my lap, a wicked smile on her face.

"You know, I was just thinking that maybe we should celebrate." She gave me a significant look, and I groaned.

"God, yes! I couldn't agree more." Anything to distract me from the images in my head, from the worries haunting my mind.

Her silvery laugh tickled the senses, and her lust was electric to my body. I knew I should fight to keep my heightened emotions from spreading to the rest of the household, but I couldn't have cared less; nothing outside my mind mattered, because that was where I was suffering.

She plucked off my shirt, placing open-mouthed kisses along the scarred skin; and I tugged off her dress much, much faster than she had taken off my top. And then in the next moment, we were both exposed, lying on the bed. Her legs wrapped around my waist and, with a kiss on her nose, I slid into her, moaning profanities and endearments and kissing her and biting her neck as we merged into one.b

In and out, in and out, in and out, again, and again, and again. Over and over and over until we fell off the edge with a cry of ecstasy.

And then, it was done. Ali kissed my neck, whispering how much she loved me, arms curled around my waist. Her body was warm and soft against my own granite skin. Her devotion was astounding.

And yet I couldn't help wanting something more.

I knew – I was a disgusting, _vile_ creature.

**Edward**

I glared at the ceiling, watching my freshly-installed light shake with the constant _thump, thump, thump_ and Alice's and Jasper's moans and groans. Apparently, they had decided to christen their new room, which, until a few hours ago, had once been mine.

They were going at it like rabbits.

To make matters worse, Jasper's potent influence had spread throughout the house. I could hear Rosalie and Emmett already going at it, minds fresh with _uh, oh God, fuck, Emmett, Rosie,_ and _more, harder, faster_. Carlisle was due to arrive home from an emergency surgery, and Esme could hardly wait; she was already planning on how tonight would be perfect to break out the _new and improved handcuffs_.

Unfortunately, being without a partner did not render me immune to Jasper's talents; I was suffering the effects of his magnified lust, with painful arousal.

I needed to get away from his powers, and soon. When I came home, I'd take a cold shower.

Irritated, I threw open the door to the outdoors, ignoring the sharp sound of breaking hinges. I ran away from the preoccupied couples, knowing that their activities could, and probably would, go on for hours. With our stamina, eternal insomnia, and superhuman abilities, we could, in theory, only have to leave the bedroom to hunt. Add to the fact that Alice and Jasper, being relatively new to our lifestyle, were stronger and had more endurance than one of our golden-eyed cousins, and I suspected they'd be hard-pressed to leave their new room anytime soon.

I sighed, heading towards the forest. I was in desperate need of a meal, considering I was cheated out of a succulent mountain lion. I just wished I'd been able to chase the beast down before I came across Jasper and Alice's scents.

As I ran, I wondered about my new coven members.

Alice was forward. Demanding. I didn't care what she had said about seeing me forgive her; I had no intention of doing so, at least any time soon. She was odd, too; eccentric. It was strange that she knew about my talent. I knew Carlisle wouldn't reveal it without my blessing, so maybe she had seen me using it. I didn't know, and for the time being, I didn't care. At the moment, I didn't want anything to do with her, and was sure she knew it.

Jasper seemed jake, but all I could see when I thought about him were those bloody eyes and scarred skin. It was obvious he had been in many fights, and had survived all of them with nothing more than scratches. He was lethal.

Catching a deer and draining it with practice, the idea that he was hiding something crossed my mind. He had to be, fearfully whispering the same thing in his head like a chant: no, no, no. With no mild curiosity, I wondered what it was.

Once I had captured and drained a second deer and buried their carcasses underneath an uprooted tree, I decided to find out exactly what he was hiding. It wasn't in my nature to pry in other minds, but he was dangerous, I rationalized; and as a new member of my family, I had to be sure he was trustworthy and dedicated to our cause.

Yes, that was it. I was concerned for my family and my secret and didn't know if Jasper would expose us or disrupt our lifestyle. And as a new vegetarian, he had to be watched at all times, constantly observed; he was practically a newborn.

I would observe his mind, for safety. If I _happened_ to unearth an unknown, then it would all be out of chance.

**x**

**x**

**x**

Cube (N)- a normal person

Jake (adj)- okay

Fream (N)- an outsider; someone who doesn't belong

Bit (N)- an act

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**A/n: Kisses to Starfish422 for betaing these chapters!**

**Reviews = love!**


	3. Chapter Three

**Edward**

I didn't get a chance to talk with him until Saturday. Jasper had been dedicated to the task of avoiding me, cloaking his mind with military tactics and making excuses while I was at home, but Alice was constantly taking me aside, jabbering in my ear like an annoying puppy. I couldn't silence her with a glare or by keeping my mouth shut and eyes away from her; she talked constantly, never pausing or giving me a chance to respond.

I didn't understand how Jasper could ever love her, but seeing that she talked enough for both of them, I could reluctantly admit the attraction; opposites attract.

Jasper was quiet – practically silent – and introverted, always questioning everything about life and philosophy. Currently, he was studying the aspects of human attraction, evaluating the meaning of physical attractiveness versus inner beauty. I was captivated, listening to his "voice" question things, cross referencing information he denoted important, occasionally jotting down notes late into the night. In actuality, the topic was quite interesting, which surprised me. Learning about beauty had once seemed ridiculous to me; being a vampire, physically, I was perfect. We all were. Like carnivorous flowers, we were perfect specimens: smooth, white skin, no unnecessary weight, symmetrical features. There would never be an ugly vampire.

When I arrived home with Emmett and Rosalie on Tuesday, Jasper was out hunting with Esme and Alice, returning only when I had to leave for school; Wednesday, he ran through the woods. On Thursday, he hid out in his room, pleading embarrassment from his still-ruby eyes; only after I had my turn going to the forest with Carlisle to hunt did he emerge from his room. Friday was the day he and Alice were...otherwise occupied. All day.

I gritted my teeth, remembering those events.

Tonight, though, was free, a storm forecast by both the weather man and our own personal psychic. The rest of the family planned to go play baseball; I planned to ask Jasper to join us.

I had asked Alice, when we were alone, what he would say – my only full-fledged conversation with her. Eager for my acceptance, she quickly agreed, casting her mind into the tangled events of yet to come, and confirmed that he would if she went, too.

That afternoon, when the bright sunshine had begun to be swallowed whole by the massive charcoal clouds, I gathered my strength and walked up from my garage room into the house. I knew Jasper was in the living room from his breathing and thoughts; he was resting on the sofa. At that moment, he was reading _The Fair Youth's Sonnets_, reciting them in his head.

_Lo in the orient when the gracious light_

_Lifts up his burning head, each under eye_

_Doth homage to his new-appearing sight_

_Serving with looks his sacred majesty_

So absorbed was he in the sonnet that he didn't notice my presence until it was too late to run away and hide, as he usually did upon my approach. He looked up with wild eyes – softened, beginning to darken into burgundy. He would have to hunt soon, I noted – as if he was preparing to flee. His muscles tightened underneath his clothes. I absently wondered what his reaction would be to animal blood, since he had fed from humans his entire existence.

I spoke, finishing the next section of the piece:

_And having climbed the steep-up heavenly hill_

_Resembling strong youth in his middle age_

_Yet mortal looks adorn his beauty still_

_Attending on his golden pilgrimage_

I sat next to him, cautioning him with my eyes; he seemed ready to jump, like a nervous deer at the crack of a gun. His eyes returned to the page, even as he closed the book. He did not look up at me.

"You know Shakespeare." It wasn't a question.

"Of course," I smiled, but it tensed as I realized he was shielding his mind from me again, reciting the _Bill of Rights_. "I wish you wouldn't do that," I said, lifting his chin with my hand. I didn't like not hearing his thoughts and secrets. Strangely, my fingers tingled with electricity where they touched his skin; immediately, I pulled away, wrinkling my brow, my lips pulling down at the corners. Jasper's eyes were wide, dull irises glowing brightly with tiny stars and pinpricks of light – ah, so he had felt that too, whatever it was.

Yes, I observed, to distract myself from my still-tingling hand, he would have to hunt this weekend; it always took more animal blood to compensate for the human wine.

He didn't respond, still as shocked as I was concerned, so I clarified. "Hide your thoughts from me, I mean."

His eyes narrowed. _Too bad. I have my reasons._

"You can't keep this up forever."

_I can sure as Hell try._

He was stubborn. Interesting. I shook my head, smiling widely. Apparently, discovering his secret would be a challenge. Good. "Fine. Anyways, the family and I were wondering if you wanted to join us in a baseball game; Alice is playing."

Suddenly, his thoughts were wild, a rambling of the alphabet and numbers and words as he tried to keep me out, a flash of my fingers, song titles, military strategies. He was very good at this, I had to admit, almost as good as Alice or Carlisle. I sighed, but waited for him to answer.

"I'd love to join you," he said, but something in his tone made me raise an eyebrow. It was...strange. As soon as I noticed it, it was gone. He smiled back at me, standing up. "I ought to go." _I'll catch you later, alligator._

Then he was gone. So softly no one would hear, I whispered back at him, "For a while, crocodile."

**Jasper**

I could barely contain my jitters. If I was still human, I was positive I would have goose flesh all over my body; warm, tingling skin; a bright, rosy blush. My jaw was on fire from where he touched me, and I could still feel his bright shock at the electricity that flew between us, his confusion, his satisfaction at my agreeing to play in the game. I was very, very glad I had; Alice had forewarned me of his request, informing me that I should play.

I felt like a lovesick young girl (one of the many I had encountered in my hundred or so years: all giggles and bubbles and infatuation, joy flooding the senses). I had to get away, though; it was taking an immense amount of energy to keep the majority of my mind concentrated on the Spanish alphabet, and I had to process this now, while the event was still fresh in my head.

Opening the back door of the house, I ran into the garden, sun streaming through breaks in the cloud cover, fighting the urge to jump in the air and laugh and dance, only allowing myself the pleasure of a brilliant, beaming smile.

Part of my mind was disgusted that I could feel such emotions from a man, but that section was so small I was able to gag and bind it; no, I was touched by a beautiful, wonderful man. And even if he hadn't realized it at the time, his touch was a light, tender caress; I could feel it in his emotions, so slight I almost missed it; I was positive he had.

Flying through the trees and underbrush, moss and ferns soft against my bare feet, like a feathered pillow, I whooped, lifting my arms into the air and obscured sun. I couldn't help but feel giddy; butterflies battered against the inside of my stomach, and I recalled what I had thought when Edward had asked me to play baseball.

God, those long piano fingers...I could imagine what else he could play. Fingers danced along nude skin in my mind, hitting all the right keys. I bit back a moan. Just like that.

Suddenly, all of my joy melted away from me as I remembered Alice. My little pixie, to whom I'd made love just this morning.

I halted in the clearing.

Sitting down on the bare earth...bare, like my skin, his fingertips creating ribbons of electricity across my back and jaw, chest and collarbone...I shook my head, hands pressed hard against my temples, trying to push those images from my mind. They were wrong. I would never do such a thing to Alice; infidelity was a mortal sin, and with a man...I exhaled, giving a dark chuckle. I couldn't imagine the results.

I had always been good at military plans and strategies; it was one of the few reasons Maria had taken me "under her wing", so to speak, and changed me.

And now, I put those skills, honed after decades of war and military strategies, to the test: what to do with Edward.

So, I had a few options. Option one, I could talk to Alice and explain everything; how his touches make me shiver inside my skin and how one of his golden glances can make me want to kiss those perfect Cupid lips; how that messy hair reminds me of sex and his vivid expressions and vibrant emotions make me want to make love to him. I could hope that it would go over well, and if it did, I would decide what to do next, most likely ask her for help getting over him.

Vampires didn't have crushes; we would instinctually love, befriend, or hate, usually for all of eternity. I could see this as a possibility. Maybe all I was feeling was a strong brotherly affection towards him.

I snorted. Right. I knew enough about love (considering my limited experiences) to know the differences between love, lust, and family love.

Still, though, it was a possibility.

Option two, I could reject all my feelings toward him, locking them away in a golden chest with steel latches. I could ignore him, pour all my love and affection into my wife and work until I could keep my mind innocent around him, so he would never suspect a thing. And maybe one day, Alice and I would leave him, so that we could have an honest, true relationship together.

I felt my chest clench painfully. I gasped for breath, rubbing that aching spot in my chest.

No, that wouldn't do; I'd surely die before it worked. That idea would be a last resort.

Option three, I could talk to him, explaining everything. I tell him (through my thoughts, of course) that I desired more, that I needed more, and that I wanted him; and pray that he wanted me, too.

I didn't like that. It was too risky, this soon in the game.

The final option: I could ignore this _situation_, and let what happened...well, happen. Figure something out later, once I had gotten further information about his feelings and Alice's thoughts on the subject; I knew eventually she would see something, and then, I'd have to talk.

That was the perfect solution, for the time being. In the future, I'd stumble upon a sure and constant resolution, but for now, I'll sit back, relax, and enjoy the last of the sun on my skin.

A lazy smile crossed my face as the sunshine warmed my icy skin.

I had always been good at baseball.

**x**

**x**

**x**

Jake (Adj.)- Okay

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**A/n: Kisses to Starfish422 for betaing these chapters!**

**Reviews = love!**


	4. Chapter Four

**Jasper**

By the time dusk had fallen, it was already raining. Lightning streaked across the sky in great bands of fire and light, and we were driving towards the forest. Apparently, despite our impressive abilities of speed, the Cullens liked to live in comfort, and running through the rain was not a luxury.

We took two cars: Rosalie, Carlisle, and Esme in one; Emmett, Edward (much to my delight), Alice, and I in the other. Because I was practically a newborn, and still struggling with their lifestyle (as well as the taste of the horrid animal blood; it had taken hours to get the bitter taste of deer blood out of my mouth), Carlisle had wanted me to be with someone strong enough to make sure, if, in the unlikely case, any humans happened to come near enough to me that I'd smell them, Emmett could hold me down while help arrived, and Edward would be able to read my mind. Alice would be able to predict if any strays were going to tempt both of us.

Together, the three of them created an unstoppable force. I doubted I would be able to drain a human even if I wished to!

The mood was loud, boisterous. Everyone was excited, a bold, overpowering emotion that spread throughout the speed demon car: a deep ebony hot rod. Rosalie's was a fiery scarlet Thunder Bird. They could both burn rubber like no other.

Back at the house, Alice had bet Emmett that Edward could beat Rosalie's new beauty. Emmett had hooted deafeningly, his deep voice shaking the room. His amusement was fresh and bright and slightly sour, like the lemons I used to pick and bite into as a child.

"Oh, little Alice," he had teased, ruffling her hair. I felt the sudden need to tear her away from him, solely based on his immense strength; bands of steel muscle rippled across his arm as he tossed her hair, and tensed in his neck as he threw his head back in laughter.

"You should know better than to say that – you can see the future, can't you? My Rosie can burn rubber better than Edward's hot rod. In fact, she just installed a new engine! Why, I'd bet you all the money in your pocket," which wasn't that much, to be honest; I couldn't remember the last time Alice had actually worked, "that my baby will beat him!"

Alice just shook her tiny head, fixing the delicate black curls, and smiled a toothy smile. "Are you willing to shake on that?"

Uh-oh. She was onto something.

Emmett snorted. "Of course! It would seem like stealing, though, to take money from a newcomer, let alone a lady."

Alice's eyes glittered angrily. On instinct, I calmed the raging, spiking emotions in the room into a single flat line: peace. I had rubbed my temples, eyes closing. All those sudden, quicksilver emotions gave me migraines, and if we weren't leaving soon, I'd go hunt to get away from them. Sometimes I wished I was human, just so I could pop an aspirin and make it all go away – no powers, no blood lust, no pounding headaches that left me dizzy. It could be so overwhelming at times. Even after decades of controlling and manipulating emotions, it was still difficult.

I sighed, hearing Emmett finally agree to the bet after calming down; Rosalie and Edward had joined in on it, too, and I looked up, opening my eyes.

I stopped breathing.

Swirling golden eyes, haunted and compassionate, watched me. I saw Edward open his mouth and wordlessly close it again. I felt his hesitant desire to comfort me, understood his confusion how to. Finally, he decided on a quick nod. _I know how you feel,_ he seemed to say.

I ducked my head, turning away. Once more, I was thankful I couldn't blush.

Edward was confused again; I could feel his emotions as clearly as my own, if not better. They were crystal to me, open as a book in a familiar language, unencumbered.

So why was he confused? Was it because I turned away? Or because I hadn't taken a place in the contest?

Finally, I understood, reaching a conclusion: he was reading my mind, and was wondering why I was glad I couldn't turn pink with rich, sweet-smelling blood as I once had, long, long ago.

Without another thought, I changed my concentration towards the French numbers, something I had picked up years ago: _un, deux, trois..._

His disappointment was immediate, a swollen gray feeling that birthed the familiar twins Shame and Woe within me; but I turned away and didn't change my direction. I heard him turn away, too, and he opened the door, running into the rain. It shut with a bang, softening the muted pitter-patter of rain hitting the grass.

I walked to my shared room and grabbing a light jacket out of the closet, one of my own. I tried to ignore the one I had borrowed from Edward, sitting high up on a shelf, sealed in a plastic bag. It still smelled like him, and I laughed internally, half-smiling like the silly, love-struck teen I was.

He had been very suspicious when I'd asked to borrow some clothes the day after we arrived, still wary and stinging from the loss of his precious room. When Alice pointed out that we were both of a similar build and height (much to his distress), he grudgingly handed over a pair of jeans, a shirt, and a leather jacket upon Carlisle's request. Once we had a new closet full of clothes of our own, I returned them – all but this jacket, my one keepsake.

In a way, I mused, it could be considered stealing; on the other hand, he had given it to me, so I considered it long-term borrowing.

God, I loved how it smelled...like honeysuckle and leather and sunshine...like him. I wished I could bottle the scent and keep it, forever and ever. I hummed, holding my own jacket close to my chest for one last moment, highly aware of the bitter impatience that resonated from Rosalie, who was more than eager to get the race started and win some money. I had to hurry; I had taken far too long already.

I broke from my silent musings, swiftly donning my own light gray coat (more for appearances than anything else). As I reached out to close the closet door, to hide my secret away from the rest of the vampire household, I heard a soft, velvet chuckle from the hallway.

Edward walked slowly – for us – footsteps echoing like a hammer, ready to sentence me for my unspeakable crime.

Hands stuck in his pockets, he carelessly threw open the door with a light touch of his hand. His hair was more disheveled than usual, and wet; he smelled fresh and musty, like the rain. Those very kissable lips were pursed, as if he was trying to figure something out; out of habit, I blocked my thoughts off.

"Hiding things, are we?" His voice was smug and smooth and velvet, like the conceited attitude that blossomed around him in a cloud, mixed with uncertainty, wariness, and glacier-cold fear. But what could he be afraid of?

"Maybe," I said, shrugging.

His eyes narrowed; I drew in a quick, uneasy breath. "Jasper, have you seen my jacket recently? The leather one I loaned you last week?"

"No, I'm afraid I haven't," I lied smoothly. "I can go ask Alice later, though, if you'd like."

"Hmm." His moods were a raging storm, changing from one emotion to the next before I had any hopes of identifying it; I could only make out the ever-present self-loathing and loneliness. His eyes, unfortunately – those wonderful, molten topaz eyes! – did not give me any hints about his emotions, either, which shocked me. In the past, when I had first met him, seen him, they had oozed fear and the need to protect his family and territory; just today, they had glowed with frustration as I triumphed over his astounding ability, and muted surprise when his touch created lightning on our granite skin.

He suddenly broke away from his thoughts, his piercing stare making me bite my lip to keep all those tempting, dirty thoughts at bay. While I may once have been old-fashioned, thanks to Alice I had come to terms with my more sexual side. I just hoped that, if and when I told her, she'd help me through my sexuality as well, which had been hindered, in a way.

Maria had been forceful. My first sexual experience had been with her, changed as a newborn; she had made me despise all things related to those activities. After every victory, when we had drunk our fill of human lifeblood and more, and before those who were quickly advancing towards the first-year mark, and had lost almost all their newborn strength, she had coaxed me into her room, and bent me to her will. If I didn't comply, she would bring in three or more newborns to hold me down while she branded me with her venom, a mark of ownership.

"_See_," she had cooed to me, biting my flesh until I, the hardened soldier, had submitted. "_I am your leader, your master, and you will obey me and fulfill my every need, won't you, my Jasper_?"

And it had happened again, over and over until I finally escaped.

Nothing I had come across in my readings, however, had helped me. It was all either homosexuality or heterosexuality, nothing between. For while I loved Alice more than life itself, I lusted for Edward more than anything in the world: money, a home, freedom, blood. God, my fingers ached to touch him, and I could swear I felt electricity in the room, swirling around and round us, like a vortex, forcing us closer and closer together. It reminded me of the thunderstorms, late at night, that heightened our kind's basic needs: sex, blood lust, freedom, the kill.

Eventually, he would be the one to decide what would happen between us. I had already decided that there was nothing I could do to change my affections towards him, and willingly put the fate of our relationship in his hands. I just dearly hoped he wouldn't completely shut me out of his life.

But the skies weren't looking so clear, and the grass wasn't very green on the other side. The chances of him caring more for me, let alone loving me in the instantaneous way I had been committed to him, were slim to none.

Sighing, I raised my head to him, feeling his shock and curiosity flood off of him in blue-green and sickly sulfurous yellow waves. His molten eyes were no longer expressionless, confirming my suspicions. Unfortunately, my mental shield had faltered at some point, and I wasn't sure how much, or, more importantly, what he had heard.

Envisioning an iron wall in my mind, I zipped up my jacket, facing the window.

Already, the rain had begun to quell. Thunder rumbled in the distance, approximately eight miles away, if I was guessing correctly based on the sound; and bright streaks of lightning lit up the night sky, like veins in a body. I sighed again. It seemed like I had done a lot of that, recently.

I felt Edward move to stand beside me. "It reminds me of the night I met you and Alice," he said softly, like he was trying to apologize or make amends. "Speaking of which, I actually might let up on her if she wins me this bet."

"You're going to be the one driving, not she," I bitterly pointed out. My mood was very unstable, as it always was whenever I was thinking of Maria or the current situation with Edward. They both made me extremely melancholy.

"Yes. Yes, I will be." He was silent for a moment, appreciating the clouds and rain, by my guess. His eyes fixed on a droplet of water on the window and followed its slow decent. It slid along the glass and wood quietly, so I still heard when it fell from the windowsill, falling to the earth with a resounding plop.

To distract myself, I began trying to calculate the water droplet's energy as it hit the puddle.

Edward didn't like that; he spoke again, most likely for the shock factor alone, in hopes of jumbling my mental barrier so he could slip into my mind.

"Jasper," he whispered to me, still looking out at the scenery, "What are you feeling?"

I faltered in my calculations. What?

"I want to feel your emotions, to experience what you're feeling at the moment."

Gaping like a fish, my mouth worked as I began several different responses to that train of thought. "Wha--do you mean--why do you--no, nev--" Finally, I settled on the obvious answer. "It's not right to do that; it's wrong."

His head tilted to the side, like a sweetly puzzled child. "But you do it every moment of every day, Jasper."

"And you read minds."

"Touché."

He frowned, lush lips set in that unhappy expression, eyebrows dangerously angled in determined despair. I wanted to heal him, fix some of his agony; already, after less than a week in the household, I could tell that he held so much anger and regret. If he was only willing to give me the chance, I would gladly fix him, putting him back together piece by piece until he was whole and loved and healthy.

"Maybe," my mouth betrayed me, "Someday I will, but not at the moment."

He nodded in understanding, and, empowered, I slung an arm around his shoulders. His back tensed, and his spine fused straight when I contacted him, but he accepted my presence. Tiny electric currents spread through our bodies, much like the lightning overhead outside. They originated at our point of contact, spreading through our being like blood once would have, or adrenaline.

I smirked when his body relaxed under my grasp.

"Edward, let's go play some baseball. After all, you have a race to win."

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**A/n: Thanks to Starfish422 for betaing these chapters :)**

**Reviews = love!**


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N: Thanks to Starfish422 for betaing! Luv ya!**

**Jasper**

His mouth was tight, a thin line, but he followed my lead; and together, we walked out of the room. I wanted to grab his hand, but discarded the idea at once; we were just starting to become friends, and I would not want to disrupt that process for anything in the world. Friendship was something that I accepted and wanted – needed – whether it was in the form of causal banter, contests and bets against one another, or, preferably, serious discussions about personal matters. I doubted that we'd progress beyond that stage, and to be completely honest, I wasn't quite sure I wanted to. But I needed him in my life, this I knew to be true.

However, those choices couldn't stop my hand from tingling with want, or the heightened currents and sparks that zapped between our bodies, trying to draw us close to one another and bind us with invisible nets of protons and neutrons and electrons. I wanted to laugh at the ridiculous situation, or cry because I couldn't do anything about it, and that it would only be me, myself, and I.

And Alice (God, I hoped she hadn't had any visions yet. But no, we were friends, and sadly, destined to stay that way for all eternity). I still had her, and I prayed I would forever; for she was my salvation and love and joy. But I still wanted more, even as my mind told me it was wrong. I wanted to be open and intimate with him without fear; I wanted to touch him and hug him and even kiss him, those perfect, pink lips calling to me as if they were doused in human blood.

But I also wanted something simple and, I thought, easier: I wanted to hold his hand. Not necessarily in the way lovers or mates do, but how friends sometimes can fool around, like how Alice had tugged on Esme's hand to show her where Esme would plant what, if she could have stayed instead of moving to Alaska in the coming weeks; like how Emmett could shove Edward's shoulder and laughingly tease him; like how the men in the coven sometimes gathered outside and wrestled playfully, like puppies or kittens do.

I wanted that friendship with him, and the rest of this coven, I realized. I wanted to cast off my old, cruel life with Maria – the wars and deaths of innocents and vampires and humans; my past grief and anger, depression and self-hate and self-pity; long nights spent wandering in a cold haze; and mornings inside –surrounded by others, but so completely and utterly alone. I'd even drink animal blood and swear off human lives for all eternity if it would give me this...this perfection I envisioned.

I had never, before I met Alice, truly cared for another once I was turned; the all-consuming fire had burned most of my memories away, so that I could no longer recall the faces of my family and childhood friends, only names and facts. But I felt like I could be reborn in a way with this family. I could change, and become one of them.

Suddenly, I felt something warm and soft, satiny yet sturdy, brush up against my fingers, and then, hesitantly, tangle with them.

I stopped breathing – I gave up on it altogether. Movement was impossible; I was frozen, spine locked, body numb to all but that single point of contact. The air was thick with tension of all kinds, from both of us, ragged and torn and hopeful; it choked me, and I couldn't speak. A pregnant pause filled the air as I slowly turned to face him.

He, too, was shocked, and nervous, either at his actions or my response or both. His lips were parted, and his tongue darted out to lick them, a decidedly human habit; his eyes were darker than a few seconds before, cautious.

What had just happened?

"I'm sorry, Jasper," he began, pulling away. "I heard your thoughts and I guess I just...I assumed, and....I though you wanted...Sorry."

Oh that silly, silly boy. I laughed softly, letting those actions and my joy and surprise play through my thoughts before re-locking them in the chest of things to never be.

I reached out and grabbed his hand. _You were right. I did._

He frowned, but I could feel his tender happiness at both my words and actions, thin and frail, like a balloon at a birthday party placed near a tack-filled table. Beautiful and delicate, the balloon was suspended between full perfection, and the possibility that it would hit one of the sharp points and immediately be destroyed.

"But what does this mean?"

"I don't know." _Let's discuss it later._

He nodded solemnly. "Would you like to hunt with me after the game tonight? There should be some prey near the area besides the deer, squirrels, and elk."

Ugh. Animal blood. The thought alone made my granite stomach twist with horror.

I hated animal lifeblood: the bitter taste, the awful stench that hung around for hours, the unsatisfied feeling that never went away, no matter how many, big or small, I drained. It could never hold a candle to human blood: sweet, fragrant, satisfying, mouth-watering human blood. The only good thing about the exchange was the transition between the eyes of a murderer and those of a fellow with actual human characteristics.

Edward coughed, drawing me out of my thoughts. "Jasper, you're giving me blood lust!"

Indeed, his eyes were almost completely enveloped in inky black, and only a few spots of gold remained to be seen. I pulled the reins on my unconscious power over him, tying it back under control.

"I'm sorry," I apologized genuinely.

"It's alright. Just be sure to keep a tight hold on it; it's bad enough with one burning throat, but twin hungers can be quite unexpected."

I ducked my head, running my unclaimed hand through my hair. God, his hand felt good, like the only parts he touched were alive, and besides that, I was dead.

And then, I sensed it, so slight that I knew he did not notice its presence, for it had to be in his subconscious, nothing more than a delicate beginning: longing. Longing for something, whether it was my thoughts, my friendship, or...something else.

It was strange, I reflected, half my mind concentrated on calculating pi. I still loved Alice more than life itself and would do anything for her upon her request, but...with Edward's hand in mine, the tension and sweetness and newfound desire to be part of this family, I smiled down at him and squeezed his hand.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"All you needed to do was ask," he answered gently.

And I felt whole, so filled with joy and love that nothing could bring me down from this high.

**Edward**

"Come on, let's go faster, Rosie! You can beat them!" Emmett yelled out the window to his furious wife, who was currently shouting a very creative string of cuss words back at him that would make even a pirate blush.

"Shut the fuck up, Emmett, and do something to slow that fucking goddamn asshole down!" I chuckled. Only Rosalie and Emmett could have that sort of relationship

Emmett groaned, golden eyes rolling, and slumped in his seat in defeat. _We're going to lose_! But then, he brightened. _Hey, couldn't Jasper give him a hard-on or extreme exhaustion or something_? He looked pleadingly over at Jasper.

"Hey, Jasper--"

"Nice try, Emmett." I peered at the confused man beside me. He had managed to get dibs on the passenger seat; though I was delighted, it did nothing to help solve our current issue of boundaries. We would have to discuss that when we went hunting later tonight. "Jasper, please ignore everything and anything Emmett may ask of you tonight."

His brow creased, the tiny silver scar above his right eyebrow crinkling; the one on his cheek, larger and more vicious, stayed smooth. The opposite cheekbone was the only part of him that was unscarred. I looked away, focusing on the twists and turns of the familiar road. Lord, I needed help; noticing small things like that...they terrified me.

"Alright."

I visibly started at his voice. For the first time, I recognized the slight Southern flavor to his voice and words. He was from the South? It would certainly help explain his manner, like how he'd always duck his head whenever Alice or any other woman was around, or how he'd never let Alice do anything that required any labor of sorts. When had he been changed, I wondered, and from what part of the South had he grown up in? I had never seen anything south of North Carolina, on account of the near-constant sunshine and warmth – it was easier to explain away icy hands if it was raining outside.

I nodded in gratitude, hoping to make it up to him somehow. But how?

Flowers were often exchanged in my time, each with its own personal meaning. A few came to mind: Black-eyed Susan for encouragement; lilacs for the first love; red tulips an everlasting declaration of adoration of the mind, body, and soul; white bell flowers for thankfulness; and basil for best wishes. When I was just a young lad, my mother had taught me these things for when I grew up and decided to woo a woman, express an emotion, or create a subtle statement. Needless to say, my father wasn't too pleased that I was out in my mother's garden, naming all the flowers and their clumsy meanings in my child tongue.

How strange it would be to give flowers to a man though! How odd, and unusual!

Would he even understand the concept? I had no idea how old he was, when and where he was born, and only knew he wasn't a fresh newborn from Alice's mind and his burgundy irises. For all I knew, he could be a mere five years old, and never had heard the concept, yet alone executed it.

My lips tugged down at the corners. No, flowers would not do; I would have to find another way to thank him.

Glancing out the window at Rosalie, I smirked across at her. We were next to each other, hurtling down the highway at unbelievable speeds. The needle of the speedometer was buried; the tachometer was approaching the red line, and we were both pushing our engines for more.

Suddenly, Alice barked, "Turn in here!" I glanced ahead.

A dirt road, trees and underbrush skirting the sides, was on the left. I turned into it without a thought. Always trust the fortune teller, especially when she's placed massive amounts of money on the table, if Emmett's savings in his wallet were any indication: a heavy handful of hundreds.

Emmett expelled a booming laugh as Rosalie passed him in her immaculate car, a smug look on her face. They zipped by, faster than us, and were soon gone. The road beneath us was bumpy, and I had to hit the brakes to keep my car from bucking up and down; my beautiful black paint job would soon be ruined by dust and dirt, all grody and dull!

"Why," I growled, preparing to turn to the car around, "did you have me take this route? At this rate, we'll hardly be there by nightfall!"

Alice simply laughed. I felt my anger growing, and considered strangling that bubbly pixie. Was she a fake, trying to embarrass herself? I had never really received any proof of her powers, besides her knowledge, which could have come to be from spying or an acquaintance or another coven.

"Don't stop or turn around. In two minutes, Rosalie will happen across an accident, where the road will be closed down, and she'll have to stop. If all goes well, we've avoid this by the detour, and she'll be stuck in place for ten minutes. The heat will be watching her all the while, so she can't escape!"

I turned around to gape at her. "Are you positive?"

"As long as you continue driving, we'll be fine. I can see if they decide to cheat." She tapped the side of her head.

_Oh, shit, shit, shit! I'm going to lose all my bread to this freaky fortune-telling midget_!

I laughed. "Not so funny now, is it, Emmett?"

"Go fuck yourself, Eddie, since you can't find a baby to do it for you."

"Creative," I chuckled. He had been cracking jokes at my celibacy since he had first learned of it, courtesy of Rosalie, and they had ceased to affect me. It seemed like every day he made some crack about not being fast.

Like a glum child, he folded his arms over his chest and pouted out the window. I was worried for the state of my window; his temper was almost as wild as my own, unpredictable and uncontrollable once provoked.

Jasper snickered beside me; our eyes met and the laughter bubbled out of me, too, like a fountain; I couldn't stop it. I laughed and guffawed and smiled all the while, wondering when I had ever been so happy. I couldn't recall, maybe once a life time ago when I was still human. Alice joined in as well, but her eyes and thoughts were troubled; they frightened me out of the overpowering addiction of a big tickle. Quickly, I sobered.

The rest of the race was quiet and tense. When we arrived, we pulled the baseball bat and ball out of my trunk, silently going about our work. Alice and Jasper broke off into a group, Emmett and I in another; we exchanged slow pitches, waiting for Alice to announce when the remainder of our family would arrive. A few minutes after we reached the meadow, Rosalie, Carlisle, and Esme ran to us, easing some of the tension.

Rose called us rotten cheats, angrily yanking some bills out of her wallet and throwing them at us. "You canats!" she fumed, before grabbing the bases out of the trunk and setting up the diamond and pitcher's mound.. But her anger was only on the surface, and her thoughts were focused on getting on Alice's better side so that, next time, she'd win. By the time the bases were placed, she had calmed down and was excited to play as the rest of us. The first roll of thunder sounded, as predicted by Alice, who was intent on wiggling her way back into my good graces.

Jasper was on edge, his mind constantly focused on World War I statistics, but he was so, so tense. I frowned at his thoughts and nodded over to Emmett, tossing him the ball. "Give me a moment."

He shrugged, snapping it out of the air with his massive paws before grinning. "Have fun calming him down, eh?" He had noticed Jasper's taut shoulders and uneasy expression; he felt like he didn't fit in with us, even though he desperately wished to. I sympathized with him, in a way: while he was unusual with his scarred skin and burning eyes, I was the only one of this family who wasn't circled or attached to another like that: Carlisle had Esme, and Rose had never been complete without Emmett; even the new pair, Alice and Jasper, had each other.

Running up to him, I patted him on the back, remembering his earlier thoughts from when he wanted contact, any type. _Had he gone long without a loving touch?_ I wondered. I had no doubt that Alice was there for him, but before that...His mind, what glimpse of it I'd seen, was dark and lonely, almost as much as mine. He, too, hated what he was. He, too, had wanted to die at some point. He, too, still felt alone.

Jasper turned and smiled at me. "You run like a cheetah, or a jaguar," he murmured, eyes wide.

I gestured faintly, dismissing the compliment; but pride bubbled up within me. Of all the enhanced traits vampirism offered, I was enamored with the pure, unadulterated speed. I had always been fast, and now I was the fastest.

"Are you ready to play? We're going to pick teams soon, and I have a feeling you'll be snatched up right away."

He snorted. I sighed. "Jasper," I muttered softly, so that only he could hear. It seemed like we had been doing that a lot, lately. "Don't fret; we're all here for you, and we all care for you. You do belong and are already part of this family. Look at how we all want to help you, how Carlisle had told you his life's story in the hope you would stay with us. Look how we've planned to care for and aid you until you and Alice no longer wish to stay with us. We will stand by you for as long as you want."

He was quiet.

"I want to be part of your family, but...I just feel so out of place."

"Just give it some time," I advised. "If you need anyone to talk to, I'm here, and I understand." And I wanted more peeks into his heavily-armored mind, which would be a bonus.

His lips curled up at the corners. "Thank you." Eyeing my gathered family, he nodded over to them. "Shall we join them?"

"Yes."

**XXX**

The teams were quickly decided, Rosalie and Emmett as captains; Rose went first, as her husband had insisted.

"Alice," Rosalie called, determined to have the fortune teller on her team. Emmett glowered until she pulled him into a deep kiss, whispering into his ear, "Sorry, Hun. I'll make it up to you later" He huffed, but nodded back, thought wild with explicit images. I blocked my mind off from theirs, for the safety of my tattered innocence of mind.

Emmett chose Jasper then, the other half of the married couple. "I want to see what this guy can do," he proclaimed, his mind already focused on using his powers against us. Rose then chose me, and Emmett, Carlisle. Esme elected herself as catcher and umpire.

**XXX**

It all happened in a single moment.

Alice was up to bat, Emmett pitching to her; I was on first base.

She winked to me, and I prepared myself to run; she'd hit this pitch – a slow ball, with a hint of curve, Emmett had decided. We were all laughing, Jasper grinning at me from his base. He had just teased me and laughingly proclaimed that he could easily strike the little pixie out. She had rolled her eyes in response.

Emmett threw the ball, but the sharp crack I was expecting never sounded. Instead, it hit something hard as a diamond, cracking.

I turned, instantaneously tuning into Alice's mind. Flashes of images passed too quickly for me to see, her thoughts so focused and mind so involved in her vision that I could make nothing out. I cursed under my breath, running to her with the others; Jasper had arrived first, connected to his wife on an intimate level to where he could sense her shift into a an altered state when a vision began.

Alice was standing, still and white as a spirit. The baseball lay abandoned on the damp grass, and was beginning to smell like must from the rain and thunder and moss.

If only she would let me into her mind, or allow me to sense it! But no, Lady Luck had decided that this was the opportune moment to snatch away my power of thoughts, and so I was left as abandoned and helpless as a newborn babe.

Her vision was coming to an end. Her eyes had begun to clear, and I was able to sense her mind once more, its distinctive trail no longer as frail as it had been in those few vital seconds.

"Jazz," she called out, her voice nonexistent to the human ear. "Jasper, stay. Stay with me."

His eyes grew troubled as he spoke, her dainty hand gripped tight in his. "I will, Ali. I'm here."

Inside his mind, I heard him whisper, so softly it was nothing more than a breath, a feeling: _for as long as I can_.

And I knew that I would have to break into his mind and see what went on inside of him, those tumbled thoughts, because I couldn't understand how he could possibly consider leaving her. And I would find out, no matter the cost.

**x**

**x**

**x**

Baby (n): a cute girl

Grody (adj): dirty, messy, sloppy

Dib (v): to claim, as in to "call dibs"

Circled (n): married

Canat (n): trickster

Bread (n): money

Heat (n): police, cops

Big tickle (adj): something immensely funny

Fast (adj): someone who's sexually active


	6. Chapter Six

**A/N: Once again, kisses to Starfish for fixing my bad grammer :)**

**Edward**

Needless to say, Alice's vision had cut our game short. Jasper seemed to know what she had seen, but ignored my urgent questioning; Alice shrugged off my family's questions with a simple declaration.

"It was nothing important, just a vision of an old friend of his," she had sighed, casually twisting a lock of her jet hair around a finger.

I had very little doubt that, if that statement had been true, it would have centered around the elusive Maria character that had haunted Jasper's memories, quick snatches of scenes that I had to pay close attention to. But she was lying, I fully knew, as she had confessed inside her mind. I was extremely concerned about her false words – how was I to trust her? I would eventually discover her secret, I decided. I feared that it might be enough to bring our home down around our heads; for if it ended with the loss of Jasper, it had to involve some kind of adversary pursuing them.

Once back at the house, Jasper comforted Alice by fulfilling her needs, which was to be expected. Having experienced the loss of her mate in her vision, she required touch and taste and smell. On the other hand, it was safe to say that I required a short run while they were occupied, to escape the potent influence of his emotions. Now, having returned, I swiftly ascended the stairs to my one- time room, my excitement and anxiousness and fear – yes, a great deal of anxiety – running through my veins.

I knocked on his bedroom door, waiting. The rustle of hastily thrown-on clothes and feet shoved in shoes echoed softly in the mostly bare room. "Jasper," I called out. "Are you ready to go?"

"Give me a moment, please," he answered. Inside Alice's troubled, unconcealed thoughts, so focused on keeping Jasper with her, I saw him lean down and caress her cheek. Listening, I leaned against a cream wall, hands folded, eyes shut.

"Ali," he whispered softly, "I have to leave now. I'll be back by dawn."

_No, Jasper, don't leave! Stay with me, and don't go with him_! "Jazz, please," she begged, holding his hand tight to her cheek. The sheet slid off her chest as she sat up. Jasper hissed.

"Ali, I'll be..."

"Please." _For me. For you. For my sanity and life and dream and future, don't leave me for him!_ Her eyes were glassy, head resting on her bare knees; slim arms wrapped around her frail frame.

I tore myself away from Alice's thoughts as they became more and more desperate, her poor mind slowly falling apart. It was only with a tense promise of "Later" that she reluctantly let him go, turning away from him. Her body was wracked with tearless sobs as she pushed him away, murmuring, _My fault. It's all my fault, and he'll leave me for it_, continuously in her thoughts. It was tragic, and awful; I could feel her pain in. How on earth could Jasper leave her when she was like that, alone and suffering? If he did, I would personally tear his right arm off, and possibly his leg, being sure to thoroughly burn them into putrid smoke.

"I love you, Ali, more than you know. I'll be back before you know it, I promise," Jasper had whispered to her as he had left the room.

She didn't respond.

When he cautiously opened the door, I sprang away from it, eyes opening, accusing. He looked away, those sad, sad eyes of his – ancient in knowledge and years, and weighed down with an inner pain so deep – focusing on the floor.

"Edward, I can't leave now." His voice was quiet. I could hear Alice's dry laments through the door, as, I knew, my family could, too.

Good. "I understand. Perhaps another time?"

"How about tomorrow, if...events allow?" I knew he meant Alice then, even without reading his thoughts: if Alice would let him leave, if Alice would loosen her tight hold enough for him to leave for a few hours. Despite my sympathy, I was still slightly annoyed at Alice for having postponed our conversation, and I hated myself all the more for it.

"That sounds perfect."

What more could I do? What else could be said? She was his mate, his lover, his wife, and she was ailing; his love bound him to her more than any ring or vows would ever be able to. He was a kind, gentle Southern gentleman, from what I had perceived, and followed his inculcated beliefs to always protect and care for women. Leaving Alice isolated and grief-stricken would break both parts of his inner being.

He sighed, running his hands over his face. "Well, Edward, I'm going to cut out. I'll see you later."

"Shoot low, they're riding Shetlands," I muttered under my breath.

He let out a dark chuckle. "Precisely."

And then he closed the door, pulling his mate close to him. Her cries had softened as she had listened to our short conversation. Rubbing her back, he cooed to her, "It's alright, baby. I'm here, I'm here for you. Shh, don't cry, Ali. I'm here."

But Alice didn't want that. She pulled away, holding his scarred face between her palms. Her eyes were still shining, but now they were joyous; a smile curled around her cheeks.

"Thank you, Jazz," she had whispered, placing butterfly kisses across the bridge of his nose, the curve of his cheek, those closed eyelids, long lashes brushing black against white skin. By now, her sheet provided no privacy, her body on display through her mind – Jasper's own consciousness was still closed to me, for the time being, at least.

And then those kisses suddenly turned heated. Gentle brushes of lips became a claiming as Alice pulled on the lapels of his shirt, her tongue playing with his. _Mine_, her mind shouted. _You're mine, Jasper, now and forever_. Every touch screamed an exorcism of sorts: there was never a soft brush of palms over skin, but clawing; kisses were harsh, violent; Alice straddled his lap, bucking against his length.

_He's mine, Edward_! her thoughts shrieked; I winced at the volume, pinching the bridge of my nose. I felt shadows lurking on the edge of my thoughts. They terrified me, and I frantically slammed the door on them, focusing on the present.

It soon became so, so much worse, the shredding of a blue dress shirt resounding, hands tugging on messy hair on my consciousness. I felt my own hands knot into my bronze locks, twisting and pulling the tough strands. If I could, I would have torn every strand of my hair from my head, melting into a puddle of molten bones and muscle and venom. I was captivated and struck, unable to move. My body fought my wailing mind, which begged me to leave for my own sanity.

Suddenly I felt a presence on the stair well. Carlisle's thoughts broke through my own disturbed mania, forcing me to return to myself, and I gained control.

He was standing there, head cocked to the side as he watched me: wild-eyed and crazed beyond belief.

_Edward_, he asked me, _What on earth are you doing?_

I stared at him. My hands loosened and fell, dead, at my sides. What _was_ I doing? I had no idea, not a single clue, and I didn't want to know, not in the slightest.

So I left, running from the hallway at breakneck speed. My observer moved to the side and I felt a rush of numbed gratitude. Gratitude was immediately dispelled by my returning madness, for at that moment, in my mind's eye, I witnessed Alice's hand tear through his pants and caress his silvery skin, delicate, lethal flutterings stenciled across it, like butterfly wings or deceptively peaceful brushstrokes. It was all too much. I couldn't process it; my mind struggled as if it had been battered with a hundred and six vicious, malevolent minds hell-bent on my imminent destruction.

_Mine, all mine_! Greedy thoughts from Alice, who was now being satisfied.

Wonderings from my silent observer, as to what I was doing.

Esme, planning on how to decorate the new home in Alaska, close to our friends. _Maybe the gold – no, no he doesn't like the color gold. What about blue...?_

And I shut down, pulling my broken shield around my exposed, delirious consciousness. Then, all went silent. And I lost a bit of myself, I think.

I flew on feet with wings. I ran, fleeing all of the subconscious wonders on the outskirts of my mind. I escaped.

And I didn't think, instead willingly –fiercely – giving myself over to that darker, hated instinct. I didn't want to know those darker, new aspects of myself, and I certainly did not want to come to face them.

All I remembered was rushing through the forests like Heaven's avenging angels were chasing me, fiery spears in hand as they prepared to dash me to bits; the greenery, bright and vivid in my vampire eyes undiminished by the moonless night; the heartbeats sounding inside my head --- _ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom_ --- and the rich, musky taste of elk's blood, which I glutted upon as if it was pure alcohol and I was man: hot, rich, crimson, good, satisfying, healing, wonderful, glorious blood.

**XXX**

I came back to myself in the hour before dawn, when everything is darkest and the stars begin to wheel furiously about the sky in an effort to stay away from the powerful sun. My clothes were covered in dust and dried blood; my hair was smeared dark with caked body fluid. I didn't even want to imagine what my pale skin looked like.

I sighed, sitting down beside an enormous spruce tree. My hands knotted in my clumped hair as I squeezed my eyes shut.

Why had I given over so fully, so completely, to my vampire instinct? I had not done so since I was a young newborn, the heady scent of blood making my throat flame and viciously tear into the closest thing with a heartbeat. Obviously, I had lost all semblance of control, if the current state of my clothes was any indication.

Over the years, I had learned to hunt in such a manner that not a single drop of blood was spilled upon the earth or stained my clothes, allowing me to drink fully and completely. I learned how to keep some form of human control while feeding, one of the strongest urges our kind ever experiences. However, last night, I had lost control.

Why?

After a moment – a few hundredths of a second – of cursory reflection, I had an answer. I was worried for my family: for Alice's state of mind, Jasper's bloodlust, my family's acceptance without prior knowledge of what the pair had endured.

Yes, that was it. The others' thoughts swirling inside my mind had begun to slowly drive me insane, a fact which I had failed to notice.

I would have to leave my family for a time, I spontaneously decided. It wouldn't be for long, but I could have a brief respite to heal, because if I didn't, I would fall into oblivion.

And the little darling Alice never returned from her Wonderland unchanged, did she?

**XXX **

The first thing I did when I returned home was to shower, which was hot enough to warm even my icy flesh. Eagerly, I washed away all the bracken trapped in the mess of my hair and scrubbed the caked blood off my granite skin, watching in timid fascination as it swirled and twirled in a coppery dance; it was almost pretty, the patterns.

Patterns. The word struck a hidden chord within me, and I stiffened, slamming off the steaming water, fighting back the shadowy mass of incriminating thoughts. No, I would not deal with those now. I had still more to do before my departure.

The second thing I did was dress in clothes that a human would find casual and comfortable. A dull gray-brown shirt, the color of dirty asphalt, and baggy sweatpants adorned my body in a strange combination. The third thing I did was proceed to walk down to out hallway to the family room, where my heart and soul lay, beautifully resting. Her black paint and teeth, a mix of ivory and ink, smiled at me, encouraging me to play and be alone with my thoughts.

With silent steps that hardly stirred the swirling dust on the floor and shallow breaths, I stepped to my beautiful love. My stone-cold fingers kissed the delicate keys, lightly pressing the first few notes of a sweet melody I had created in memory or my human mother – so as to not forget, I had told myself, but ah! Time had ravaged my treasure of human memories, more depleted every day.

It had been a long time since I had last played.

Sitting on the bench, I began the soft song – the bright highs recalling how I used to love her smile, long forgotten; the laughter; the bright joy she exuded along with silly nonsense, as my father had called it; the fierce protectiveness of me, her only child and son. The low notes were of the last days, when she was dying and I had felt helpless.

My fingers pounded on the delicate keys, a melody of dark, twisted spirits – and then my mother's song was gone, gone, gone, replaced by something deeper and more tumultuous, knotty, deep, and damnable. My thoughts ran wild.

Esme, who had been resting on the loveseat as she listened to me play, frowned when she heard the sudden adaption in my song. Used to the happy, or at least bearable, songs I usually played, she was disturbed by the jump from peace to anger, and hatred, and immense loneliness.

_Why all the sorrow, Edward_? she asked, moving to stand beside me. A hand fell on my right shoulder, and I flinched away from it. There was a momentary break in the song, revealing the stress my creation had given the family. She immediately pulled away, hurt.

I ignored her. The song continued to build in intensity, all heading towards one cliff where it would suddenly end, falling into the never-ending ocean.

_Oh dear. It looks like we're back to the beginning again. Next thing you know, he'll be leaving us... _I held in a chuckle. She wasn't far off the mark, in all reality.

Guilt flooded my being, but I stored it away where I could not sense it. No amount of remorse would make me stay here; I couldn't.

I had to leave, that much was set in stone. Whether it was tonight, tomorrow, or a week from now – if I decided to branch off while my family moved back to Alaska – would all depend on what Carlisle had to say.

Rosalie and Emmett had left once my melody had begun to turn sour. According to her, my "teenager angst" was "ruining the mood". They were currently busy, miles away.

Alice had come to stand before me. I had looked up at her once before turning away in muted, undeserved rage at her.

Why? Why was I filled with ire still? She needed Jasper, and yet I was in a huff because she had stolen away our rare time together. Why?

She watched me for many moments before speaking inside her mind.

_Don't go, Edward_, she had whispered, wearing sloth clothes and weary eyes. _Think about what you'll be doing – it won't help like you want it to, and we both know this._

I ignored her, too.

Jasper sensed my emotions, but never opened his mind to me. Instead, he sat beside me on the piano bench and allowed me to feel what I felt and think what I thought, without interruption.

It was the greatest gift anyone could have offered me.

The depressed melody never lightened, reminding me of my reason why I had to leave. And I knew, by noon – after hours of playing – that I had made my decisions.

I would not go to school tomorrow, I decided. I lacked the energy and attention to act human, and I just didn't care.

I would hunt with Jasper one last time in my home before it was sold.

I would discuss my concerns over my lack of sanity at times, with Carlisle.

And I would say my goodbyes tonight, because if Carlisle agreed, as I highly suspected he would, I would be on the road, halfway to Alaska by dawn.

Edward


	7. Chapter Seven

******A/N: Love to Starfish422 for betaing!**

**Edward**

Talking with Carlisle had taken up most of the morning, so I spent the afternoon explaining to Esme why it was necessary to leave, without actually blaming our new family members for adding to the mental hardship that was slowly wearing away my last traces of sanity. Our goodbyes were to take place tonight, after Jasper and I returned from our hunt.

Everything was scheduled: my car was full of fuel, everyone was informed, and all I had left to do was pack a small carry-on bag with an extra set of clothes to change into after the hunt – Alice had informed us that it would storm tonight, and I hated to wear wet clothes, a pet peeve of mine – a wallet, and the key to our soon-to-be home.

I liked it that way, everything orderly and ready so that I wouldn't have to fret. In fact, the only part I was concerned about was the goodbyes: even with prior knowledge, Esme was guaranteed to shed tears, Emmett would treat me with a rough hug, and Alice, Rosalie, and possibly even Jasper, who would be weighed down with everyone's grave emotions, would be melancholy. Carlisle would let me go, the only one of the family, I felt, who grasped what I was saying without making me explain. He let me go when I needed to, and stay when I wished; an atonement, he felt, for changing me too early and pushing me to stay with him not so long ago, when I was wild with bloodlust and bore the scar of crimson irises.

Suddenly, as I was packing a spare change of pants and a shirt, my door burst open; my visitor closed it behind him, clicking the lock. I looked up, and flinched. _Shit._

"Edward," he said, standing at my door. His hair was askew, bangs flopping across his forehead and covering one converting iris – half-way between red and gold, almost a burnished bronze. His eyes were wild – with agony, with worry, with sorrow. I couldn't take it; my wilted, dead heart rebelled against anything that would cause him pain...but I had. I had been the one to harm his dark innocence. "Edward, talk to me," he beseeched.

I looked away, like the coward I was. "Yes, Jasper?" My voice was tense.

"Why are you leaving? I thought you were part of this coven."

I barely resisted looking up at him; my mind was a jumbled mess, as were my unbridled emotions – I couldn't focus on my current task. With a heavy sigh, I gave it up and sat on the couch, massaging my temples. _God_.

"I am. I just have some other business to take care of before we leave the area." The lie came easily to my practiced tongue.

But, ah, he easily ferreted out my false statement, crossing his scarred arms furiously. The white skin of his forearms was exposed, and I held in a pained whimper, recalling how they had looked as Alice had kissed them. I managed to fight down the memory; with effort, I recovered somewhat.

"What business?"

"I have to leave and visit the family and remind them we'll arrive next week."

"Wouldn't a phone call suffice?" _Stop lying to me, Edward! Tell me the truth, for the sake of my sanity! Don't leave me; I __**need**__ you!_

_Sanity_. The word brought back the reason why I had to leave, and the memory of Alice imploring her husband to stay with her last night. It also caused so, so many questions to spring to mind, the ever-present why's and how's: _Why, Jasper? Why do you want a monster like me to stay? Why do you need my presence in your life? How is your sanity in jeopardy?_ But I tightened my lips, sealing them with the glue of a secret, and listened to his mind.

Jasper's irritation was multiplying, that much was apparent, and spawning fiery ire to replace the sorrow within his eyes. But only just. _Why do you want to leave me; we've just begun! Oh, Edward, love, we're so close._

So close to what? And _love_? My, I had many things to ponder on this trip.

I pranced around his words as if they had been a riddle. "Perhaps. You might want to shield your thoughts; it's hard to ignore them," I warned. It was becoming more difficult to focus on what needed to be said when his baffling thoughts flitted around my mind.

He listened, lips pursed as he concentrated on batting averages in the 1928 league. He was worried about what I might have heard.

"Won't you stay?" His words were a plea – he was _begging_ me. In that single moment, I hated myself more than I ever had before: when I was first changed and thought myself a monster; when I had killed my first human; when I had left a sobbing Esme and Carlisle to gleefully drink the blood of criminals; when I'd watched, my triumphant smile falling from my face, as the daughter of a murderer wept over her father's body; when I had lost control only minutes before. I wanted to stab myself through the heart, just to take away all the pain in his voice and eyes and soul – oh, if only the myths surrounding our kind were true!

I spoke hardly above a whisper. "I can't."

He nodded. A moment passed, and his hand crept across the navy fabric, slow enough to warn me of his intentions, giving more than ample time to pull away. But I didn't. And I wanted it. And I hated myself all the more.

Then, his warm hand nudged mine, the silvery, feathered flesh of his fingers reflecting the light as he intertwined his hand within mine. He squeezed it, and I looked away from the floor into his passionate eyes, so full of life and sorrow and joy and weakness that I was captured within their bittersweet net, and I couldn't escape. My breath halted as his irises bore into mine: red and gold and auburn, all together in a blistering, scorching inferno that rose about us. My body trembled.

"If that's your choice and I can't influence it," those eyes voiced, crinkling as he murmured, "Then allow me to give you a parting gift."

A beat passed, the imaginary thud of a heartbeat sounding within my ears; waves crashed over them and I had to, for the first time since my rebirth, ask him to repeat his words.

He sighed. "May I give you something?"

This time, I could work my jaw and tongue, and the words escaped. "Yes, Jasper, you may, if it will make you happy."

He smiled sadly, hand rubbing soothing circles on my hand. "Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me."

"But you still wish I didn't have to leave," I said, finishing his unspoken thoughts. I didn't have to weasel my way into his mind to know that he was still disheartened; within the past couple days, I had gotten to know him surprisingly well. And that scared me more than I'd like to admit.

"Of course I do." He shrugged blue-clad shoulders, and I couldn't help but wonder what color his eyes were before he was changed.

His eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

"What?" What had I done?

"I can feel your curiosity – it's practically everything your feeling at the moment. Just ask me your question, Edward."

I looked away. I didn't want his burning eyes on mine as I spoke; I feared my mouth would run away as if I was intoxicated. "What color were your eyes, before you were changed?"

He was silent, and I feared I had misspoken. From previous experiences with all my family members, especially Rosalie, I had found that our human lives are often delicate subjects, approached with care. Yet here I was, bluntly asking him to tell me something private about him, something that maybe only Alice knew. We were all speculating about Jasper's history. While it was obvious from his scars that he had not been made recently – unless torture was a new trend started by the Volturi – we had no idea how old he was.

And then I realized that I wanted to know more than his eye color, but his past, too.

I wanted to know what his mother was like, and if she was anything like mine. I wanted to know how he was changed – a topic even touchier than human experiences – and why he drank human blood and who Maria was; what his favorite color was and if he had a favorite flower that would bring a smile to his face. I wanted to know everything I could about him, but I couldn't bring myself to ask. Everything in our relationship was becoming too intense too soon; we were already intimate friends within a few days of his arrival.

I waited uneasily for him to speak. I could always ask him about his life at another time; the moment had already passed. He turned my hand over and began tracing simple spirals and motifs on my bloodless palm; I felt his metacarpals and phalanges through the impenetrable surface of his skin in turn.

We sat, holding hands as the night passed around us and the moon climbed steadily higher, its white face ominous against the navy velvet of sky and diamond stars; until midnight, when the increasing intimacy finally drove me to pull away. I let go of his hand and flexed my own to try and eradicate the lightning coursing through the points he had touched: my fingers, my wrist, my palm. As I rose to finish my packing before our overdue hunt, he disclosed to me in an undertone: "Gray. My eyes were gray with a hint of blue, like slate." _Like my mother's._

I stiffened as I heard him begin to think for the first time that evening. "What did your mother look like?"

The thoughts were incautious, and I was astounded he didn't bother to shield them. _She was…beautiful, a true Southern belle, charming accent and all. Chocolate hair, gray-blue eyes, fairy-stature. My father fell in love with her on sight. _He sighed. _I suppose it runs in the family._

Suddenly the thoughts violently veered back to the statistics. I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest. Yes, I could tell that he loved Alice from the start; it was obvious to all.

"She reminds me of my own mother. Carlisle tells me I looked exactly like her."

"What color were your eyes?"

I looked back at him as I zipped up my suitcase. "Green. Like emeralds, my father used to say."

"They sound lovely." _Especially on you._

Something in his statement made me feel…strange. All airy and light, buoyant and yet bound the earth by the prison of gravity; like a balloon filled to the brim with air, or a perfectly weightless soufflé that could deflate at the drop of a hat. Something in my chest jumped, and I gasped, placing a hand over my heart. What was that? It certainly wasn't my still heart, and nothing was broken; my granite skin prevented injury.

I didn't like the feeling; it was unwelcome and I felt the need to chase it out. "And you sound like a dolly," I retorted rudely.

Jasper's awed face fell, and I felt rotten, as if I had drained an innocent dry or condemned another to this half life. I hid my face beneath my messy locks and placed my slim bag near the door. Tanya had promised to procure adequate clothing once I arrived, and blood was no issue in the Alaskan wilderness.

"I'm sorry. I-I just can't..." I stumbled. The words weren't coming out right, all twisted and mutated like deformed pearls, still shiny and white and pure, but ugly in shape. "I can't do this, Jasper; everything's too fast, too much for me, too _strange_. Give me time."

Only a whisper of feet hinted at his movement, and then I felt his muscular arms wrap around me. I leaned back in into him, feeling his hard stomach against my back. "It's alright, Edward. I understand."

"What is this?" My relationship with Emmett or any other man had never involved any of these things. I only knew of relationships women had that were similar to this: hand-holding and hugs, the occasional kiss on the cheek.

And then I wondered if this was the ragged path we were traveling upon, if we would kiss. The concept both terrified and delighted me. Images of tenderly-pressed lips against foreheads, cheeks, noses, and even lips dancing through my head; tongues intertwined, lips locked in a heated, passionate exchange, a morbid display of mutated passions. To my immense shame, I even felt slightly aroused at them. I shifted my hips in a weak attempt to dispel my growing erection. Behind me, Jasper purred softly, pressing his body even closer to mine; I could feel his own erection nestled behind me, and I moved a half-step away to regain control of my unpredictable body and mind.

Yes, I would have to depart at once. Perhaps Tanya could return the sense to my idling head.

"I don't know," he finally answered.

"Me either," I breathed. His body felt so good against mine, and my mind screamed red-hot warnings to me: _too much, too fast, too intimate! Back away and return to safety immediately!_

I leaned my head against his shoulder to nuzzle his neck once before shoving away.

"Too much?" he asked me. I silently nodded. "Was that alright?" Another nod from me. "Did you like it?" he questioned disbelievingly, voice passionate, awed, and worried. I moved my eyes to trace the dents and cracks in the aged concrete floor; my family's reckless driving had caused the need for a replaced cement floor twice in four years. Soon, we would have to fix the garage for prospective buyers.

His hand reached forward to tilt my chin up. "Hey, don't hide away," he said softly, like one would to a timid puppy or a child. My eyes lifted to meet his, and time fell away once more. We didn't blink or move, enchanted by each other's powerful gaze.

Then he blinked and I looked to the door and moved aside. "Are you ready to hunt?" Internally, I cringed as I realized how husky my voice had become in those cherished moments stolen from the face of reality as the world turned around us.

How had we come so far in such a short period of time? Was it our similarities? Our perfectly-matched personalities? I didn't know; but deep within I'd realized that we were two peas in a pod, two parts of a whole entity. How was that possible?

It wasn't.

It wasn't, and I knew this, and I had long accepted this, thinking myself as a lone man. However, in that one thought I found a wicked solace and comfort: that we were perfect together. Our time spent in each other's company was effortless – when the tense strain of our unusual relationship was forgotten.

Jasper blinked and growled, stepping closer. "Say that again," he commanded me.

"Say what?" I cleared my throat in an attempt to rid my voice of its rough quality. It didn't work. "Are you ready to hunt?"

"Yes, that." _Lord! Does that boy know what he does to me? Does he have any clue?_ The pleased purr began again, a deep rumbling in his chest and throat; I wanted to smile, but my unfocused, alarmed mind wouldn't let me – I actually _liked_ his reaction. But what did he mean, calling me a boy? I might be a boy in technical age, but my mind was mature, and my experiences had left scars on my character. And what _did_ I do to him? Did he experience the same feeling I did when we were together, and alone? Was it the weightless feeling, the fluttering in my abdomen that had refused to abate, or the instant draw to me that he felt?

I had no idea.

And I wasn't sure I was prepared to learn the answer, yet.

I pressed a hand against his chest, feeling the vibrations that ran throughout his chest and veins and body. Did they originate in his heart, or in the muscles and organs associated with vocalization? Could it have been born of both?

His hand caressed my cheek, rubbing up and down, his perfect fingers – only one scar on the littlest finger blemished it – kissing my cheekbones and jaw. I let loose an involuntary purr at his actions, eyes closing briefly, before they snapped open and I shoved myself onto the door; away from him and his magic touch and emotions. The beautiful tone of his pleasure abruptly cut off; his face blanked.

I faced the door, not wanting to see his torn, distraught features, a result of what I'd done to him with one careless, selfish deed. My heart fell into a lightless, heavy pity as I snagged my bag with a hand and toed the door open with a foot; my mouth, detached from my heart, as it well should be, uttered the unspeakable words that would never, I knew, be forgotten, for it was the beginning of the end.

"Are you ready to leave?"

_No. No I'm not, love,_ he thought, making me feel all the worse as those yellow butterflies zipped around my chest and stomach; but what came out his lips was different: "Only if you wish to, Edward."

"I do, Jasper."

"Then, yes, of course I am."

Quiet was his voice, a lovely baritone that echoed through me. I felt as though he had messed with my mind, planting little emotions in there; but no, inside I knew the truth. It was all me – every feeling, every touch.

I didn't lock hands with him when we left, though, even as I wished to; my body thrummed with the need for it.

And when we ran into the dark night, I refused to give into the sharp electricity in the air, thought it brought dry tears to my eyes.

I would not make another mistake again; I would fix this, fix myself. I had somehow gotten myself into this mess, and I was going to find my way out, one way or another.

**XXX**

We ran in silence. On account of my faster speed, I slowed down enough for him; he, in turn, ran at an even lazier pace, forcing me to grit my teeth and continue following the gradual decline in speed. Before long, we were jogging at a human pace; similar to a sprint by an Olympic athlete, but still painfully slow by my standards, until I simply…stopped.

I couldn't take it anymore, and even the sharp beauty of the wilderness – every blade of grass with grinning teeth; every leaf with razor edges, as seen under a microscope; every millimeter of archaic land – could no longer distract me from the pressure building between Jasper and me. It was like fire, crude and uncontrollable, combusting and tearing at the seams.

Jasper was irate, as he had been cross since I had left him at the door while I ran away, escaping from the questions and terrors that haunted my wakeful nightmares. Rage pooled off him into the stormy night, falling behind in our trails, intermingling with my hopeless alarm.

Legs locking like a newborn foal, I stopped at once. Jasper continued on, however, even speeding up, and half a mile away, he pounced on a deer. I watched in awe as he drained the helpless beast, entranced in the way his muscles bunched and contracted in his biceps and triceps; trapezius and latissimus dorsi moved under the net-thin covering of that blue shirt. It was a marvel, undoubtedly better than Michelangelo's David or a Greek god in all its flawless glory. He was more lithe than the mountain lion I favored, stronger than a rhinoceros, and more skilled than an ancient samurai warrior. I held in a purr that threatened to escape my sealed lips. I would _not_ let my desires get the better of me!

When all that was left was a corpse, nothing but bones and skin and bloodless muscles and sinew, he turned around. And despite my tight self-control, a gasp escaped me.

His eyes were already decidedly more golden than they had been a few minutes ago as they bore into me: more amber than orange. A small trickle of the coppery blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his tongue darted out to lick it away.

Overhead, I heard the first rumble of thunder, and further off, the crackle as lightning materialized overhead, heating the molecules of the atmosphere until they were fire, light, and sound. A drop of rain, the firstborn of its generation, fell from its mother cloud and sire sky and plopped onto my nose. A second immediately followed, and then a third, and fourth, and so on.

But I didn't notice this, so fixed on Jasper's pink tongue, icy with sweet venom, as it retreated back into those plump lips; the drop of blood, crimson and still warm, but cooling, on the tip of his tongue.

His eyebrow raised, a wanton smile on those desired lips, and...I lost control.

Sprinting at him, I knocked him over. The sound of boulders colliding mimicked the clap of thunder, increasing in tempo as the storm grew closer. I straddled his waist, leaning over him; I could feel my semi-hard cock against his, and it was strangely pleasurable. His eyes widened as I leaned even closer still, until my face was inches away from his own.

All but a small amount of the blood was gone, and that small portion was _mine_; he was _mine_. Our breath mingled in the downpour, all sweet and chypre, like fougere scents; it was _addicting_, further clouding my foggy judgment. I stared at that morsel dripping further down his throat – not even a mouthful, but a few drops flavored with his skin. _Mine. All_ mine.

My lips brushed his throat as I opened my mouth, sliding my tongue out – frosted with venom.

And then, I licked it up.

As soon as my mouth made contact with his painted skin, his thoughts went wild, further encouraging me on.

_Oh, God,_ he moaned as his hands came up to hold me to him. _God, Edward! Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop…oh, the things I want to do to you! God, fuck, fuck!_ He groaned, verbally this time. "Fuck!"

I increased the pressure of my tongue as I lapped at his skin. When I reached his jaw, the nectar gone, I whispered into his ear, "What do you want to do with me, Jasper?"

He hadn't even noticed that I was deeply settled within his mind. _I want to rip your clothes off and fuck you senseless, love. I want to watch you come as I pump your hard dick in my hands, and I want to feel your hands – god, your perfect piano hands! – on me as I orgasm. _"Oh, you have no idea." He rasped a dark chuckle as I bit on the lobe of his ear. _Fuck, boy!_

Somehow, in my dark and confused mind, his unspoken response seemed to make perfect sense; here, on a moonless night with a storm above us – sensitive as we were to nature's ire – our desire like a high that made us crazed, everything made completely logical. The scent of his breath drove me insane and the taste of his skin, ever so slight, mixed with the sinful temptation of blood was heroin to my body. Electricity shot through my frame; my lesser instincts controlled me as a puppet master would his little creations. It wanted him, and nothing could withhold the cracked dam of passion at that moment.

I was intoxicated, with want and need, and with the power of the storm – the need to mate, for our kind.

I replied, "Somehow, I think I do."

He smirked. "And?" _Do you know what I'm thinking, boy? Do you know what I want to do to you? Do you want me to make you mine, make you feel good? Do you like the thought of it?_

"I like it," I said, answering both his verbal and nonverbal inquiries.

"You do?" He was incredulous.

"Yes."

"Well, then." Jasper pushed on my right shoulder, flipping me under him. I complied and relished in his weight above me. "Let's get straight to business." _Oh, God!_

His tongue, more skilled than mine, traced a line up my jugular. He paused there, waiting to see if I would flee, as I had before. But why would I? He set my body on fire in the best way, as all my drugged senses informed me. I should have stayed all those other times; but now I planned to.

At my silent acceptance, he released a blithe sigh of satisfaction. _It seems like I've waited forever for this moment_, he mused as he stared down into my eyes. His lips – so soft, so full! –pressed hesitantly against the edge of my jaw, and I bit my tongue to hold back my response; my hands clawed at the earth.

The gale was at a high now, thrusting hail and pouring rain down upon us; it made everything all the more intense, the contrast between the warm and cool.

His kisses grew more intense as he, gaining confidence, licked and bit along my jawbone to the lobe of my ear, which he flicked with his tongue. My eyes reflexively rolled back into my head.

"Oh, Jasper!"

He sucked on the area behind my ear, hard and long, as if to create an impossible hickey there, before whispering into my ear, "Call me Jazz, Edward." _You are mine, after all._

I took to his new name with relish. "Jazz, Jazz, Jazz," I murmured back to him as he began his way back to – I could see in his mind – my lips.

I couldn't wait.

When he finally arrived there, just kissing the corner of my lips, I let go of the last of my inhibitions: my hands twisted of their own will around his neck, a leg wrapping around his perfect waist that flowed from a v-shaped torso, my face moving as swiftly as possibly to capture his own pink lips at an angle.

It was heaven, electric to my senses and made my veins, long dead, come alive with molten heat. Soft and smooth, I wanted more; I hungered for it. The puppet master had no intentions of letting me escape without more; it wanted release. Jasper's unrestrained lust and pure want poured into me, and mine into him. We were like mirrors, reflecting and intensifying each other's need, like metal in the sunlight of a summer's blue-skied day.

He moaned into my mouth and pulled back for just a moment – eliciting a small cry of protest from me – before hungrily claiming my lips once more. I wanted more, required it like blood or venom. For those first few minutes, we just kissed, until he traced my bottom lip with his tongue and caught my bottom lip between his; we locked and relocked our lips for just a moment until I understood: _Let me in, Edward,_ he thought, presenting an image of the two of us French kissing.

I couldn't resist; I wanted to taste him, and vaguely wondered in a small part of my mind if his venom tasted even better than his skin, which was sweet and fresh and earthy under the lighting and thunderous sky – _intoxicating_.

Eagerly, I opened my mouth to him. He brushed his lips against mine, though, much to my disappointment, once, twice. I began to close my mouth; but then I felt his tongue snake out to tentatively touch mine; and my eyes rolled back into my head.

Saccharine, like the finest spun sugar, and heady, like a drug – like nicotine – I was addicted to his taste in that single burst of sunlit summer. He groaned, and made a tiny thrust with his hips, liking my own flavor –_ It's like bottled sunshine and ambrosia, honey mixed with the freshest mint_, he rhapsodized.

The rain above us began to slow down, the squall drifting off for just the moment.

But my mind froze in the lull of the storm, for that moment no longer under its overpowering influence, even as my own body responded with a thrust of its own and my erection grew.

_What on earth was I doing__ – with a _man,_ no less?_

I gasped as Jasper moved against me, unhindered like I was. It was the sweetest, most awful melody we made as I bucked and he thrust. We were racing toward the unknown, and I raised my hands to push him off – but ah, the storm returned with all its oppressive might! I was once more powerless to my desires, like a helpless kitten in an alley – I certainly mewed like one! – and I could no longer think logically.

I could feel the cliff coming closer in my mind, and waiting to reach it was almost painful, but oh so good. Jazz broke off the kiss, moving to my neck; we moved faster and harder against each other now, and I ripped his shirt apart to place my hands against his bare skin, as the storm instructed my inexperienced body. He responded in kind, moving a hand from my hair to my chest, stroking the pale flesh that lay exposed for him.

_Mmm__, h_e hummed, placing tiny bites against his neck...and then I knew how to get us both over the edge; it was so simple, really…

"Jazz," I gasped, clutching his shoulders and pressing him harder against me with my heels. "Jazz, bite me."

He stopped, eyes enormous as he stared down at me. "_What_?"

"Trust me, just _do_ it!"

_It'll hurt_, he reflected, returning his attention to my collarbone, which he sucked and licked and kissed as he tweaked a nipple. _I should know; it'll hurt more than you think_…

"Do it!"

He hesitated, preparing the skin with sweet kisses and swirls of his tongue. A hand went further down, cupping me through my jeans. I threw my head back as he rubbed me – trying to give me more than enough pleasure before the pain, I presumed.

_If you really want it, then I'll give it to you._

"Yes! I need it, Jazz!" I was almost there

_Fine.__ W_ith that one last thought, he latching his lips around my skin and harshly bit down into it.

I growled as satisfaction and agony mixed in equal amounts, his venom burning a feathered scroll on my white, white skin – silver in color, my own personal tattoo – and I came, for the first time that I could remember.

It was all warm and wild and uncontrollable as I felt a warm liquid rush from me; I was free, soaring...

Razor sharp teeth continued to dig into my skin, and I felt him still above me, pushing still as he tried to obtain his own orgasm; half a dozen thrusts against my thigh later, he did. Then he collapsed against the muddy ground, bare skin glistening in the rain.

I wanted him closer, though; I needed him.

Inching closer in the dying storm, I wrapped my bare arms around his waist and lay my head against his shoulder. My new tattoo – a claiming of his – glittered on my collarbone, and I faintly smiled as Jazz lifted a finger to caress it.

Oh, it was a fine night, I wondered, hugging _my Jasper_ beside me. He purred in response, and I nuzzled against his neck, disturbed as I was.

Through a break in the clouds, a single fleeting band of moonlight slipped away from its home, kissing the trees and their leaves, lilting on our exposed minds and bodies, white and pallid and scarred against the sable dirt. Rain caressed our faces and skin, but began to slowly die out.

And the moon slid behind the clouds once more.

**x**

**x**

**x**

Dolly (n): a girl


	8. You Questions Answered!

**A/n: Okay, here it is: The answer to some questions that have kept popping up.**

**Hope this explains some things a bit better :)**

**Q.** Okay, doesn't this story seem to be moving too fast? I mean, Jasper and Edward both thought they were straight, and yet last chapter they were all over each other. Weird, right?

**A.**Well, both yes and no. Yes, because it is moving fast, but no because there are some reasons for it. First, Jasper and Edward feel and undeniable pull towards each other that makes them want to please each other and be close to one another (hence the hugs and holding of hands). That magnetic pull is very similar (or the same) to what vampires experience when they meet they're mates, which is usually followed by a decade of getting it on. The only reason why Jasper and Edward haven't truly admitted their feelings about it is because of the doubt and confusion in their minds, mostly Edward's. If you think about it that way, they're actually taking it slow.

As for ch.8, they lost control. The potent combination of the storm, blood, and strong, yet unaknowledged, bond between them began to wear away at their practiced control. Don't worry: they're not going to immedately shack up together and admit their undying love and passion; this first part was to establish the eternal strength of what they felt.

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**Q.** What did Alice see in her vision back at the baseball field?

**A.** Alice saw Edward and her husband in a rather, er, incriminating, intimate position. Let's just leave it at that.

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**Q.** Why was Alice trying to make Edward stay? Won't that hurt her relationship with Jasper when she's seen in a vision that Jasper and Edward will get together?

**A.** Not as much as you think. Remember **Zombie Bella** back from New Moon? Now, change the name to **Zombie Jasper**, but keep the same characteristics: numbness, being antisocial, craziness to get close to her missing love in any possible way. That's what Alice sees if Edward leaves her. Yes, she may have Jasper all to herself, but he really won't be the Jasper she knows and loves.


	9. Chapter Eight

**A/n: Thanks to Starfish422 for betaing! Luv ya :)**

**Edward**

After that, I fell into a daze – a smile on my face, Jasper's arms around me – as the rain drizzled around us, on us. My eyes closed, and I felt content for the first time I could recall. I lost track of time, as I often did around him, despite the fact that our kind _doesn't_ lose count of time, tracking every single hour, every miniscule hundredth of a second. But I did; I accomplished the impossible, and I loved every moment of it. Occasionally, we would exchange soft kisses, brushing lips along faces and necks and ready mouths; our faces hid in the curve of lean shoulders, legs pleasantly intertwined in a lover's embrace. I was in a pleasant haze where nothing could be wrong, and nothing seemed wrong; life was perfect in Jasper's embrace.

But before long, the rain became a fine drizzle and then eventually stopped, and the rumble of thunder quieted. The gentle fog that enveloped reality fled with the mist of the last raindrops, fading away into those tiny crystals that were life to this planet; they soaked into the muddy ground, whispering to it of our current position and the events of hours past.

And when that happened, I came back to my senses, the callous light of truth finding me and what I had just done.

Harsh, _livid_ senses that screamed for me to fight him off – _To Hell with him_, they cried out, disgusted. _He influenced you with his emotions so he could practically __**rape**__ you! He tore your innocence away and made you want it!_

I didn't struggle against their crystal-clear logic.

I pushed myself away from Jasper, throwing his arms from me. I stood, wild with hatred; through his confused and exposed mind, I was a maddened beast. He looked back, eyes filled with sorrow – oh, as if he hadn't planned it; to lure me away under false promises and then tear everything from me: my beliefs, desires, knowledge of right and wrong! _My_ eyes burned holes into his awful, horrid flesh – and then I recalled how, in the fey spell of the moment and his power, I had _begged_ him to bite me and mark me as his!

Ah, the _shame_ of it!

I focused on my rage, which grew from a spark to an inferno, tenaciously ignoring the small part of me that entreated me to listen to him and lay back down and cuddle with him as we spoke of the future. _You know you liked it, and your emotions were purely your own_, it whispered once before dying out.

But I had no intentions of listening to it.

Instead, he would look at what he did to me; for now I would no longer be able to stand alone, clean and perfect – now, I was flawed, marked by a nobody, a _rapist_. Now I was _his_, branded with words and venom. He had called me his, and I had actually _liked_ it!

His golden sunset eyes stared up at me, pleading. I snorted, spitting my venom at him; where it hit the ground just shy of his perfectly curved cheek, the dirt hissed as it began to break down.

"Edward," he beseeched as he hurriedly stood. He knew from my emotions that it was futile, though. He also knew that I never wanted to see him again. His mind cried out against the possibility. "Don't let your emotions get the best of you right now! Obviously, we felt something and it would be best to discuss it-"

I chuckled, and that dark chuckle rolled into a hysterical laugh; it grew and grew, expanding demonically until all I heard was that awful, terrible, choppy laughter that seemed to mock me, echoing in my ears. It came from the trees, from the earth, from the heavens, from Jasper himself; they all seemed to mock me, for I had enjoyed his little game, and wanted more from him. Hell, if the storm hadn't abated so soon, I would've probably pleaded for more, another round of unrecognized torture, and torn his fucking trousers off, if not made the damage worse!

He wanted to _discuss_ this? As if it was something that could be analyzed, or dissected into little parts and scenes to see the root causes and reasons _why_. As if the big hourglass of time could be turned around, so that I could chase him and Alice from our home the very second they arrived!

"You want to talk, Jasper?" I cackled, feeling my sanity crumble to bits. This could not be _happening_. "Fine. Let's talk about how you tricked me into hunting with you, scammed me into accepting a gift through guilt, and then effectively _raped_ me! Was that your _gift_, Jasper? To use your power to make me slowly want you, like – like a _male deviant_! A _pervert_! Like _you_!"

Jasper's beautiful face fell, and he tried to use his power to calm me. But no, I already knew his motives, and fought against him in a battle of wills.

"Edward, let me talk-"

"What, you have _more_ to confess?" I cried acerbically; my eyes shone with unshed tears, bright with venom. – _It's like bottled sunshine and ambrosia, honey mixed with the freshest mint – _No. No, no, _no_!

Like a child in a tantrum, I stomped my foot against the ground, creating a ditch that reached to my knee; my jeans, the only clothing I still wore, were muddy at the calf. I pulled my leg out and punched the tree trunk at my right; a great crack echoed. Encouraged by the noise – so angry and hollow and heartsick – I pushed the tree again, and then tore it from the ground, its broken roots trailing as I heaved and threw it far away, where it crushed into a brother spruce. It helped, somewhat. So I reached for another evergreen, ripping its life away as I pleased, feeling the withheld sobs rub my throat raw as they increased its constant burn. Then, a third, and a fourth. A fifth body was destroyed before Jasper took action.

As I was reaching for another, he hugged me close, arms securing me in my fit. He was stronger than I, still harboring traces of human blood in his system, and was able to keep my flailing body in one place.

I screamed and swore violently at him, calling him awful, terrible things that no one should ever have to hear, especially from a friend; but he took it all silently, waiting for my willpower to fade so that he could calm my mind. His own psyche was open to me, and I could hear all his thoughts: his pain, his wishful want, his love. I could see our night together from his perspective, and all our time together before; saw the regular cloud of lust mixed with desire and love that always surrounded me in his presence, and sometimes when I was alone, as he was watching me through his powers, like I had spied on him. Want always colored his own thoughts, and love, too. That was…terrible; I responded by calling him a sick pervert and told him to go to the Volturi and ask them to kill him.

Then there was the worst: his silent confession that he hadn't influenced my emotions in any manner, and in the influence of the strong emotion, which had made Jasper weak, I managed to strike him with my elbow and fist before he had my arms back under his control. And then, the withheld tears and gasping breaths started to escape.

He waited as I silently wept and heaved dry sobs, still fighting, even in the end; but I was too weak mentally, too _exhausted_, to struggle with both his mind and power – I finally succumbed hours later. And his mind – injured, but soft and healing, like a warm fire on an icy winter day, frostbite on the cheeks; or the joyous, brilliant sunshine in the middle of a deadly, scorching wasteland – broke through my battered defenses. I fell.

Crumpling to the ground in a heap, I clutching fistfuls of the damp earth; the dirt was caught between the edges of my nails and skin, staining them dark, like blood. My mind was aching, so I curled around my body and rocked it as Jasper comforted me in his mind; if he dared to speak, I cut him off with a rude, hurtful statement.

_Edward, it's okay_, he murmured, sitting beside me, but thankfully not touching. _Listen to me when I tell you that it was not all my fault or your own, or even Mother Nature for tricking us with that storm, but some combination of events and emotions that led to this. I know for a fact that even if there hadn't been a storm, I would have wanted you like that; I've desired you from the moment I saw you. _Several small snapshots accompanied his confession: my fingers, hands, eyes, "sex hair", and pale face. My new scar forming beneath his lips as the acid burned and hurt as much as it pleasured. _Beautiful, _he sighed, thoughts digressing. _We really were beautiful last night._

_It wasn't my intention,_ he continued quickly after a frail shake of my head,_ to do anything besides hold your hand; I was letting _you _set the pace, do what you were comfortable with. _He sighed, staring at my new scar; he liked it, seeing his claim on me. But I didn't. _If you wish to know, my gift was going to be a choice of anything you wanted: my emotions, thoughts, human life, past vampire life…your emotions. Anything and everything, and it would've been all yours if you had asked. I know it's not "right", but could it be completely "wrong" if it felt so good and we both wanted it? I certainly know I did, and I hope you can realize that you did, too; if not, then it was still one of the best nights of my life. And since I know that it will most likely never happen again, I suppose I'm somewhat content … _He smirked, wondering what it would have been like without all our clothes, or if we could've been more attached, something he had heard of in his studies.

I shivered at the images that accompanied it: us, bare as the day we were born, wrapped around each other, lips locked, me on the bottom, him on top. Another was more…explicit and taboo, making me shudder in delight and want and disgust, so I shut it out, hands squeezing my temples as if I could tear the image out of my mind; it played on loop over and over again. I shivered again.

"Jasper, please!"

"I'm sorry," he muttered before signaling that it was safe to return to the comforts of his mind. Return I did, lodging in his most inner place easily.

_Do you know what was best? It wasn't the orgasm, or anything physical, but the knowledge that, for __a moment, you accepted my affections and returned them. Hmm… _He absently wondered,_ Maybe I could lure you into more storms and steal away your innocence…_

"You already did." My voice cracked; I shook my head as I cleared my throat. "It's too late for that."

He was silent._ If you're hurt, I regret what we did. _

"Good." I _was_ hurt, I thought.

_Did it mean anything to you?_ His mind and body begged me to say yes; yes, it had meant the world to me, and I wanted him more than anything: more than the air or blood or sky, more than my superhuman abilities or another being – woman or man, human or vampire.

I lied, the darkest falsehood I have ever told. "No," I said. This time, though, he believed it, if just for a moment. Then, he analyzed my emotions – _self-loathing, fear, worry, longing, want, _love – and decided I was deceiving him.

"Alright then." He didn't believe me one bit.

"I mean it," I insisted, because it _couldn't_ mean anything – it was a _mistake_, all of it!

He snorted, but nodded. "I'm sorry."

He wanted to touch me, hug me close and never let me go, but I kept my arms wrapped around my body in self-defense. I didn't want his poisonous touch on me, to force me feel things I didn't want to feel, and make me crave his body and mind.

"Fine. I don't care."

Jasper groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Edward, give up the act; you and I both know that this does matter to you, whether it's a harmful event-"

"Which it was," I interjected, shutting my eyes. I didn't want to see him watch me anymore; it as difficult enough hearing the truth reproduced in his thoughts.

He continued as though I hadn't interrupted. "Or a change in our relationship. In fact, it matters to me more than I'd like to admit, really."

"Does it now?" I grumbled. Suddenly I felt his presence before me, his cool breath washing my face; and I sucked it in with deep lungfuls of air; his heavenly scent filling my senses. He really did smell a lot like he tasted, sweet and earthy, and I momentarily delighted in the similarities before I could stop myself. Jasper chuckled at me under his breath. He liked the way I smelled too, and remembered the way I tasted as our tongues danced, the rain around us, on us.

_Are we really so different?_ He wondered, breathing in my scent, too, as his hand moved to touch my knee. I scrambled away, keeping my eyes closed as I flew to the shade of the trees opposite him – as far away as possible. There I returned to my protective position.

Jasper followed me, slowly – like a human creeping through the dead of night as to not disturb the still air, or the sleeping dead. He paused after every step, allowing me to flee; but I didn't. I wasn't sure what I wanted, but I had to stay; the thought of leaving made me wince at the pang in my chest. Like Snow White, I was trapped; unlike her, I wasn't waiting for a prince.

_Wait,_ he whispered after every step,_ Wait, Edward, and let me say goodbye. Please wait, love._

I growled fiercely when he called me that – _love_ – and he stopped using it; afterwards, I was merely Edward, not love or boy or beauty. I didn't regret the loss of the sweet nothings, I think; they made me all the more unstable and confused.

Within a few minutes, he stood a yard-and-two away from me. I bristled, hiding my face in between my knees.

He did not touch me, but sat in front of me.

_Open your eyes, Edward_.

I shook my head, hissing at him. My hands were locked, muscles tense, but he didn't back down; he could defeat me if it came to blows, and he knew it.

_Please?_

"No."

_Why not? All I want to do is offer you something._

"I don't want anything you can give me, Jasper. You know that."

He thought for a moment, and I ignored his mind, feeling the night continue to chill as dawn began to approach; the stars wheeled high over our heads, but were still concealed behind the gloomy clouds.

_Ask me any question you want, and I'll answer it._

My voice was muffled by the denim. "Fuck off."

He laughed; I bitterly hated him at that moment for being so joyous.

"That's not a question, it's a statement." And before he could help it, he thought: _Only if you're there to help me._

I raised my head, glaring at him. I was exasperated, and all I wanted to do was curl up in a corner and let out the dry sobs that, held within, rubbed my throat raw. "Don't ever bring that up again, Jasper. I don't want to see you; I don't want to talk to you if you're going to be like this."

"Do you want to know why I'm like 'this'?" Jasper suddenly asked. He sighed, staring at the exposed mark on my collarbone. He wanted to lick it, to prove to himself that he had made it – and me – his. He was a sexual being, it seemed, and it made sense. Being an empath for God knows how many years, he had been wild when first changed; the slightest arousal had driven him to crawl into bed with another. And right now, he wanted _me_.

"Don't you dare." I closed my eyes again, listening to the nighttime play of the forest. Far off, an owl was searching for its late-night snack, and had just caught wind of a small mouse that fled in fear. A herd of deer was resting, their soft breaths and slowed heartbeats soothing, even to a hunter like me; a grizzly bear snoozed in its cave, preparing for the upcoming winter. Everything was so _alive_ at this time.

_I won't._ _I promise to not overstep my boundaries._

"And I promise to hold you to that." With that, I rose, walking back to the trees he had just vacated to collect the strips of fabric that had once been my shirt. Those I buried beneath a tree stump, veiling the last possible piece of evidence – besides my mark, but that could be hidden with the right shirt. The only real problem I would have would be explaining to my family why I was missing proper attire, and, if they managed to see my scar before I concealed it, why and when I had received it.

Jasper followed me, again. He helped to collect the shredded bits of shirt and handed them to me. My hand sparked where we touched, and I glowered unfairly at him, as if it was entirely his fault.

Once the proof of that night had been buried - and gone forevermore - he snagged my hand in his. I tugged once, but he didn't loosen his grip. I tried to escape again, but he held tight, wrapping my slim hand in both of his.

"Edward," he breathed.

I tugged again, stepping backwards; even under his strong calm, I could feel the resentment begin to surface. "Let me go, Jasper." My voice was surprisingly steady.

"No."

"Jazz-" I stopped at my slip, and started anew. "Jasper, let me go. I'm warning you. Don't touch me." My voice took on a hysterical edge as he didn't move away like I had half-hoped, but closer.

He pressed his hard archangel body against mine, sculpted from the most perfect stone, layered with pieces of the most flawless marble and immaculately pure diamonds. His bare chest was light against the black of night, but soon dawn would arrive, and I would mourn the loss of the darkness where I belonged.

Jasper's face was a hair's-breadth from mine, and I felt woozy from the scent of his breath, the promise of the taste of his skin. "Edward, I want you one last time." _Let me kiss you, please._

I couldn't respond, trapped like a fly in hardened amber in the power of his gaze. His eyes wide, he waited, but I couldn't respond, overwhelmed by his simple, beautiful presence. I tried to speak, but my mouth stubbornly refused to move. So, he took my silence as acceptance.

And then he let go of my hand, delicately holding my face with his hands as he kissed me, soft lips pressing gently as he traced them with the tip of his tongue.

But I held firm, hands clutched at my sides, body still as a statue. I shook in my silence, fighting the need to respond to his delicate touch; it seemed I was a repressed sexual being, too. It was sweet and tender and innocent, and I wanted it; my body _begged_ me to respond to his touch. Through pure doggedness, though, I won. Jasper sensed my reluctance and pulled away, a frown at his lips, a crease between his eyebrows; he was so hopelessly confused! Then, my hands gripped his shoulders tight, as if I was keeping him with me, beside me; but no, I pushed him away from me, hard. He toppled into the broken pile of trees.

I stood there, shaking with my overpowering wave of emotions. It was all too much, and in my anger I feared I might do something irrational.

Sooner than I had expected and hoped, he was standing, petal lips curled in a frown. I backed away. He stepped forward.

"Stay away from me, Jasper," I warned, my bare feet sinking into the mud, warm with life under my foot and between my marble toes. I took another hop backwards, preparing to skirt away from the danger; my limbs tensed as I began to run far and fast, fleeing from my confused lover - no, _no_. Not lover. A friend, a misguided companion and nothing more, but perhaps less.

Not heeding my warning, his eyes strangely both heavy and sharp, dark like onyx, with countering thoughts – _I should let him leave; I want him to stay here, with me; you're not leaving; God, you exhaust me with your emotions; I want you_ – he tracked me, holding me tight to his body – warm and deliciously sculpted – so that I could not escape.

My spine fused straight. _No, no._ "Jasper, let go."

"No."

My voice tightened. "Let go or I'll make you." A sour taste began to seep onto my tongue and throat. It was putrid, and lit a fiery path where it dripped.

He was too trusting of me and my ways; he didn't believe I'd follow through on my threat. He underestimated me. "You won't."_ You couldn't._ He sighed, nuzzling the hollow of my neck.

And I waited, but he wouldn't release me, so I took action, my fist flying fast. I caught him off guard.

It wasn't hard enough to hurt him or even provide a sting, or harm in any physical way, but the shame of it would be enough for me – for I had hurt myself, too, in that one action. I watched as his lips formed a pretty 'o'; his eyes beaded with tears of venom, little crystals that would never be able to escape those beautiful sunrise orbs. His hands released me, one flying to his cheek, where I had hit him. He did not harm me in any way, but stood mute; I'd bet he was in shock, like I was. For the moment I had first regained all clarity in thought, I was paralyzed.

_Edward_…Jasper wept wordlessly; his body wracked with the tiny sobs. But I wasn't too sorry; I didn't feel anything but the pain, numb and dead inside as I was.

I begged him with my eyes, keeping my face cold. It was for the best. It was, it was, it was – _it had to be_! "Don't you dare say my name. And don't ever touch me again, or I'll rip you apart. Think of Alice."

_Alice…_he remembered, seeing her broken frame in his mind's eye. Sorrowful blame crushed him, and his knees went weak. He fell to the ground, and I let him. I had to, because it was for the best in the end. He and Alice were married and deserved each other, two halves of a whole. They were male and female, mates.

And I ignored the increase in the burning, the bitter potion that coated the back of my throat; the fire deep in my belly roared, its flames licking my icy stone-cold heart. My breath hitched at the first sensation of agony I had experienced since the scream of the change had left my bones.

But inside my mind, I couldn't feel anything anymore; my consciousness was hardly existing, a mere wisp of thought: continue, endure, and survive. I was numb except for the growing inferno that consumed my innards with a vengeance.

Had I finally lost my sanity? Would I find it lurking under the bed with the midnight monsters of nightmares and murders, sin and horror? I did not know.

"Yes, Alice," I said, continuing on the rabbit trails. "You love her! Imagine what she's seen, and what she's gone through because of you. Imagine all the heartache and pain-" I abruptly cut off, clutching my stomach, where agonizing acids burned me from the inside out, like venom. It hurt too much, all of it; the pain increased by a tenfold. I collapsed, hugging my midsection as what only poets could describe happened to me: the worst type of heartbreak, inflicted and felt only by the breaker and not the broken. It was like a sharp knife; a lethal, poisoned dagger. It was hate and malice, sin and fire and acid, all together, all united against me.

I also now knew what Alice had foreseen, and why she had chased me off with her words and little claiming: she had seen Jasper and I, together intimately. I wasn't sure of the exact extent of her visions, but I held a faint belief that we had gone far enough to be seen as lovers, farther than we had tonight. I would not allow it to happen.

It was for the best.

It had to be.

Jasper felt my pain – wincing at its sheer, crippling intensity – and, shielding his mind, reached for me, ignoring my threats as I batted his hands away repeatedly. I rose, holding back the tears that I did not understand.

"Get away," I gasped out, fleeing from him. "Leave me!"

Legs unstable, I ran from the site, unsure of what I knew, felt, or believed; all I was sure of was that I was in pain, and all functioning beings attempted to escape from pain. So I left Jasper, sitting in the circle of trees.

He did not follow.

**XXX**

I ran faster than I ever had before, pushing my body to the limits, for while I could no longer feel the strain of muscles polluting themselves and shredding in exercise, I still felt the familiar strain and limits of a human. My eyes were clear and no venom tears fell; my body wasn't capable of such functions and hadn't been for the past thirty-eight years. I jumped over fallen trees and dove over the fallen bodies of cypresses; they reminded me of a myth Jasper had once read while involved in Greek mythology – a phase of his. I suppose I now knew the reason behind that inquiry.

_Once upon a time, there was a young prince who was loved by the god Apollo - yes, a __god__, not a goddess. Cyparissus by name, he and Apollo were as close as friends could be, and they deeply cared for each other, more than friends should. Cyparissus also loved a stag that was unafraid of mankind, and he was Cyparissus' pet._

_One day, however, while Cyparissus was hunting, he accidently shot the poor beast, and rather than live without his friend, he begged Apollo to let him die. Apollo wouldn't let his beloved die, so he then asked to be allowed to grieve for all of eternity and changed into a glorious cypress tree. In his love, Apollo agreed. The boy was changed, and he went on with his heartache. And from that moment onward, Apollo promised to mourn the lad. And he did, every moment of every day._

I had liked the tale when I had heard it from his mind, enjoying the familiarity and particular ring it held. Now, though, I understood why I felt compassion - a kinship, if you will - towards Apollo.

It seemed like there were quite a few Greek myths surrounding that particular topic, of male lovers and changed bodies: a Satyr youth was loved by the god Dionysus, and when killed by a boar, became grape vines; Hyakinthos was a young Spartan prince loved by both Apollo and Zephyrus, and when Zephyrus murdered him in jealousy, Apollo made larkspur bloom from his blood; and Krokus was loved by Hermes, and was changed into a saffron crocus when he fell. It was astounding, really, how some of the most noted writers of the past described forbidden wants that I could agree with today.

When the trees began to clear near my home and my form shone like a dappled, glittering golden gem in the light of the rising sun, Esme stopped short, catching her gasp in the palm of her hand; her thoughts traveled at a mile a minute, fretting like any normal mother would. Nothing managed to escape her notice. _Edward, what happened, my dear? Are you alright? Is Jasper okay? Where is your shirt? Why haven't you hunted? Why were you so late returning?_ Then she finally noticed the mark on my collarbone. Unfortunately, in the morning light it shone even brighter, a spot of molten sun on my chest that faded to pitch around the edges. It was, now and forever, my tattoo, and I would bear it well. It was my punishment and sin, a letter of light emblazoned onto my breast. It was a reminder. My mother didn't understand, though. _Oh, how horrid! Who dared do this to you?_

I questioned what she would say if I answered that I had asked for it - literally begged for it - in order to orgasm from another man's touch. The image provided had me guffawing, and I laughed cynically against the pain of my burning innards as they twisted in impossible knots around my heart, slowly killing it.

Esme, Carlisle, and now Emmett, ran toward me, reaching me at the forest's edge; all were extremely concerned. Esme reached me first, pulling me close.

"Oh, Edward, darling!" Esme gasped as she reached to touch my silvery tattoo. "What happened? Did Jasper harm you?"

My laughter stopped. I snatched her fingers out of the air, holding them tightly; my dark eyes bore into hers. "Don't touch me, Esme." And it was then that she vaguely noted a particular saltiness that surrounded me, close as she was.

I was just grateful that the sticky stain in my trousers had escaped her notice, caked with odd patches of dirt, mud, and stained with grass and ferns. However, her mind, having been together intimately with Carlisle for the past twenty-six years, noticed the distinct smell of my release. Thankfully, she discounted the very idea of it instantly: _No, it must be something else. There's no way Edward would..._

My father and Emmett agreed, deciding that I was still celibate and whole; for I would never dare do such a thing, especially out in the open while hunting, especially with another _man_ around. And I thanked them for their inobservance, their minds shocked at my flinty eyes and unkind responses, even more so than usual - all of my coven knew I fled from the touch of others.

Carlisle would not stand for my actions though, and made to reprimand me. "Edward, be kind to your mother. She's been extremely worried, and-"

Malicious words poured from my lips; in my spite and anger, I let them loose from their chains. "And what? She's not my real mother; technically, I'm older than her. My mother's dead, like I should be, buried in her grave with my real father - not my maker, Carlisle." I stunned Carlisle speechless; neither his mind nor mouth was properly functioning; he gaped like a fish, lips opening and closing without a sound.

I just laughed. Harsh, cruel sounds burst from my gut as though I had heard the finest joke. "Jasper did nothing, _mother_," I mocked. "I'm leaving now, and I don't expect to see any of you soon. In fact, I hope I don't." I didn't think I could face them after this. And if I did, I was sure to be excluded and alone.

I didn't belong here, or anywhere.

I was a monster in every sense of the word.

I thought, wondering where I should head. Alaska would no longer be an option after tonight. Canada or any of our prior residences wouldn't work; I'd be too easily tracked down anywhere I was visible to Alice's all-seeing eyes. But _where_?

And then I remembered a place once mentioned, where they would never dare to _dream_ of heading; there, I would be safe. A perfect grave for a perfectly awful corpse; I'd remembered it from a story I was told when I was first turned. Viewed through the mind of my maker, it seemed to have all of the necessities: blood of both human and animal, protection, the lure of distance, and ancient minds from the times of the Greeks and Romans - they might be able to help me with my problem.

I glanced up at the Eastern horizon, watching the sun break free of its battle with the clouds, victorious. Then my eyes moved back to my home for the past three years in one last look. It was a true beauty, with red doors, window shutters, and details; cream paint furnished the sides in typical Esme style, the yard landscaped to perfection.

Finally, I faced my friends to have one last picture of my family and coven; but then, realizing I didn't want to remember them like this, I turned away. I would remember all the good times instead, I decided.

For my sweet mother, Esme, was crying quietly, her timeless face hidden behind petite hands, into Carlisle's shoulder; her husband - my own father! - couldn't even look at me and kept staring at the ground. _Where did we go wrong_? He wondered, and I had to agree with him; somewhere along the line, I had turned rotten and awful, unimaginably cruel.

But then again, I was an abnormality. Different in the worst way.

Emmett was prepared to either smash my face into the house and give me a well-earned sibling beating, or chain me to the wall and lock me in my room so I'd stay. Rosalie was cursing me in her mind - quite inventively, actually. Alice was sobbing still, processing the image frozen in her head, a small snippet of her vision that replayed over and over in her mind.

_I was in an enclosed room; vampires with burgundy eyes and exposed fangs surrounded me. In front, an ink-haired ancient stood, palm raised as if in ben__ediction and eyes milky with age. His skin was frail as chalk - translucent, like glass - and just as pallid. Behind me, a white-haired vampire frowned. He was an ancient, too. Beside me, two child vampires, powerful and puerile, glared, ready to strike. However, all those imminent threats were erased when I heard the booming words of the dark-haired man._

_"Welcome, Edward," he said jovially. "We've been expecting you."_

_And the bronze-haired boy in the vision smiled back at him._

_Voice whispering like silk across velvet, he responded: "It's good to be here."_

And then I knew: I was going to Italy.

**x**

**x**

**x**

Male deviant (n): homosexual

**A/n: Well, did you guys expect **that**? Not too sure I liked this chapter, but I'm not too fond of angst. Thank you reviewers! - apparently, I should write more lemons, because I got a whole bunch for last chapter.**

**Jasper's POV is up next, which ought to be interesting ...**

**Reviewers get a preview!**


	10. Chapter Nine

****

Part Two: Realizations

_The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves. We live in denial of what we do, even what we think. We do this because we're afraid. We fear we will not find love, and when we find it we fear we'll lose it. We fear that if we do not have love we will be unhappy._

---Richard Bach

_A love so perfect, so beautiful  
Was the double edged sword.  
One side so sweet  
So dull of worry  
So full of love.  
The other so sharp of worry  
So deadly with confusion  
So overcome of aberrancy._

--- Unknown

___6 Easy Steps to Stop Being Afraid of Love:_

_1. Figure out what you're actually afraid of._

_2. Identify a cause for your fear._

_3. Figure out what you learned from the experience._

_4. Work on conquering your fear._

_5. Realize that it's all right if you fail at love._

_6. Time heals all wounds. Give it time._

_--- _WikiHow

**Edward**

I sprinted from my bewildered, shocked family into the garage, where my few needed possessions were: a new set of clothes, my car keys, my wallet, and a passport. I stripped down, ripping those awful, stained jeans from my body. I tossed them into a corner, where I would I later pick them up, shove them into my bag, and burn them.

There would be no evidence of my momentary loss of sanity; I would be through, and no one would know the truth.

I heard Rosalie come to stand at my door before I arrived, and heard her sniff the air and taste it on her tongue. She was less likely to believe in my tight standards though, and guessed the truth.

_Sex_, she called the smell, and wondered if that was why I had instantly shied away from her, that I preferred the company of other _men_. Her brother had, young in his years and ways, and less moral than I was; it made sense to her.

I didn't have the time or the will to bother correcting her, so I brushed past her.

"Leave me."

_This won't solve anything, Edward._

"_Leave_ me, Rosalie!"

She sniffed and tossed her hair once before rushing off to comfort Alice's broken thoughts, but not before tasting the air one last time. Her thoughts screamed of confirmation.

_Yes, sex._

I treated her as I had the rest of my family; I ignored her, getting down to business.

Within a quarter of a second, I was dressed in more appropriate attire, my necessities packed and ready. I could still smell the jeans from the bag --- grass, mud, rain, and sex in the air. Then, I raced to my car, tossing my bag into the backseat before slamming the door shut, the metal frame bending under my strength, and thrusting the keys into the ignition. I put it into first gear and shot out of the driveway like a bat out of Hell. My family looked on with broken faces; I shut my mind to their thoughts.

Minutes later, I was on the expressway and when the familiar sign passed, I made a split-second detour. Cars honked as I cut across the lanes at incredible speeds, cutting off a blue Ford wagon. I ignored them.

After all, why worry? I was immortal; unfeeling, dead-hearted, and always, forever alive.

The ragged hole in my chest ached, but I refused to acknowledge it; it would do no good. I switched on the radio, turning up the volume as if it could drown out my thoughts and worries and damned emotions. Vic Damone was played.

And it hurt more, so I turned the radio off.

Silence was better than _that_ song.

And so I drove on, the ache inside growing and fading, spreading and retreating. And when I'd finally believed I had wished it away, it would only return, twice as strong as before.

By the time night fell, I wanted nothing more than a certain pair of arms to chase the agonizing fire away.

But no one was there, because _I_ chased _them_ off.

And the stars twinkled mockingly, asking me, _Cash or check, cash or check, cash or check, love?_

And I didn't know whether to laugh cruelly at them as my heart sunk within my chest, or dash them from the sky with a burning net of silver simply to watch them wither in the flames.

So I drove in silence.

**Jasper**

I sat on the forest floor, frozen in shock. In my hands was a torn strip of cloth that I had saved from the wreckage, its frayed edges already falling apart within the heart-shaped cup of my hands. I held it close against my heart, mind whirling.

What had just occurred? Flashes of my beloved crying, and kissing, and fighting me all warred inside my thoughts, each one screaming for attention, begging to be noticed above all the others. But the one memory that I grasped onto was the brunt of his emotions as they swirled around him in a vivid aura, some that I had come to expect from him, and others that I didn't.

Love, in subtle shades of pink that made my skin tingle pleasantly, was present throughout his entire rage, from the moment we had left the house to when he had fled from me (and then some time later, I was sure). It was an unconscious affection that had quickly blossomed, but was trapped within the safe boundaries of his subconscious mind, for he was not yet ready to acknowledge its presence. And I understood that, and accepted it. He would know it, in time.

Fear was expected, too. I'll admit, I was terrified as well when I was released from the overpowering drive of the storm and my primal urges. The scent of sex around us, Edward's teen-boy body against mine, made me catch my breath. It was so _different_ than with Alice: I had no hopes of resisting him. It reminded me of the first decade or so when I was with Alice. The first few hours had been spent talking, the next necking in the backseat of her rented car, and ten years spent with on-and-off sex with brief intervals for feeding; during that time, I was powerless to resist her. And now, I was powerless to resist Edward. And I feared. Could I possibly have _two_ mates? I had never heard of such an anomaly in all my hundred years.

Confusion was the most obvious, and understandable. He seemed young, for a vampire, but highly moral. Who wouldn't be confused at having been intimate with a man? And laced with shock and heady lust, faint but still lingering, it weakened me. There were faint traces of others that I hadn't bothered to pick at, but was sure they were similar to the others.

The worst emotion --- the most shocking and awful one, the one that made me want to cry venom tears and escape from its oppressive, stormy weight --- was charcoal hate. At time, Edward hated me, and it was _unbearable_.

All of his volatile feelings gagged me and weakened me as I tried to fight them off. But no, I was too weak to keep him safe with me. And the _pain_! It was a knife thrust through the heart, cracking bone and marrow as it burned, like liquid fire, through his (and through my power, my) veins. It spoke of loathing and betrayal, self-hate and loneliness, heartbreak and loss, weakening me until I was unable to move.

And I gasped for breath, feeling the gaping hole in the center of my chest. Like a disease eating away at my innards, I felt hollow, and alone.

Stumbling on uneasy legs, I rose from the muddy earth and sprinted from the forest, praying to somehow catch up with my love, even as I knew it was impossible; he was too fast, and had a head start. But I had to try.

I didn't pay any attention to the rising sun or the creatures that instinctively fled from me. The trees and plants couldn't hold my attention, as running was instinctual; no, my thoughts were only focused on _him, him, him_. I knew he had gone to the house, that much was obvious, but where he went afterwards was another matter. And if I could somehow manage to catch up with him, what would I _say_?

The miles passed on with such worries, and within five minutes, I was in front of the cream and burgundy building (burgundy, like my eyes), the shutters and door acting like the red stripes on a pretty candy cane on the holidays. Oh, but these vampires --- those who now were part of my coven --- were not jubilant! No, they were sobbing and yelling; Esme and Alice curled up on a sofa inside the house as they cried; Rosalie was shouting and swearing, breaking things, Emmett watching her; Carlisle was pacing along the backyard, running a hand through his hair as he silently raged. Their emotions were heavy and oppressive, weighing me down.

As soon as I called out Alice's name, the family was gathered in front of me, like an impenetrable fortress. Some glared, others looked on with watery eyes, but all were curious.

Carlisle was the first to speak. "Jasper, what happened?"

But I couldn't answer that! Of all the possible questions, he had to ask the one that I couldn't --- _wouldn't_ --- answer. Instead, I frantically looked around for Edward --- could he be outside, right now, hunting? Or packing upstairs, or frozen somewhere close by in anger or fear? My heart begged that he be close.

"Where's Edward?" I asked, quickly, eyes darting around. He had to be near! He had to be!

"Gone."

My heart sinking at the answer, I turned to the speaker: beautiful, perfect Rosalie.

"What?" It was like choking and coughing, forcing that one word past my lips. The word came out strangled.

She smiled bitterly and flipped her long hair. "He's gone. He left, and we don't know why." But even as she said she had no idea, her keen butterscotch eyes were shrewd; an inking, a suspicion had formed in her mind, maybe even close to the truth.

Esme, sensing that, paralyzed as I was, I couldn't speak, filled in the remaining blanks.

"Oh, Jasper, Edward just left! He came from the forest, and …" Her eyes were hazy with unshed venom tears --- clear and sweet and never-to-be released. She gulped, and it felt like cotton was blocking my breath as I impatiently waited for her to continue. "And … yelled. At us. We don't know where he went."

_No._ No, no, no! My screams welled up inside my mouth, scratching and scraping in their desire to escape, but no! --- they, couldn't, because I wouldn't let them! Jaw locked, eyes glazed, I looked around for Alice, my wife, my steady rock. And there --- there she was!

She wrapped her arms around me, supporting me as the world tilted on its axis and the blue oceans and tan earth swept over me in a tidal wave, burying me alive. No sobs escaped, though, not in front of _them_. Alice glared at the gawking onlookers, pulling me into the house and the first available room. I lay on the bed, still as death; I _felt_ like death.

Alice --- my beloved, my mate, my wife --- held onto me, holding me close to her petite frame as if she could draw all of the grief from me and into herself. She would take it for me, too; she loved me so much more than I deserved, because that was the truth: I _didn't_ deserve her.

I tightened my grip on the shredded piece of fabric; I felt its strength begin to give, the threads pulling apart and fraying at the edges, and for a moment, wanted to rip it into a hundred thousand miniscule shards, pull it apart until it was nothing but a pile of stray cotton fibers. But I couldn't. As far as I knew, it was my only lasting relic of our short, intense relationship and our too-quick night; it would hurt more than it would help to destroy it in a fit of passionate sorrow.

So instead I held it tight to my chest, wishing for a million times that it wasn't my last reminder of him. My face hid against Alice's shoulder as she tried to comfort me, with no avail.

I knew it was hopeless, as did she, but I loved her all the more for her diligence.

I felt the sun outside --- the one day I wished it was rainy and cloudy --- move across the heavens as the day passed into night, and stayed in that room, tearless sobs wracking my body. I knew that the rest of the coven could hear me, but I didn't care. Let them make of it what they would!

All that time, Alice never let me leave, even when I begged her to let me suffer alone in my agony. She was steadfast; even as she knew that I had cheated on her and might have committed other forms of adultery if _He_ hadn't left. She never said a hurtful word, even as her repressed bitter hatred and acidic betrayal left a foul-tasting residue in my mouth and a pounding headache. She never turned away, arms enveloping me as she whispered comforting words into my ear. She never spoke a word as I, unable to cry or dry-sob in my numbing cloud, clutched to her bosom like a suckling babe.

It didn't change that I wanted _Him_ beside me, though.

And I clutched the dead place in my chest, missing _Him_ all the more as the day passed into night, and the night into morn.

**XXX**

A few hours later, when the deadness had completely set in, and the only thing I cared about was _Him_, Alice took to the initiative.

At first, she reached around, ready to pull the dirtied, smelly fabric from my hands, but I always covered it, hiding it from her. Then, she tried to make me put it down, but I wouldn't listen to her, silently rushing into a corner where I was safe. But, in the end, she took it from me.

She had just told me the prayer of all women --- _how He didn't deserve me_ --- before swiftly placing her fingers onto the gray scrap. My grip tightened.

Alice gently teased the scrap of fabric from my clutched fingers. I fought her for it, unwilling to let my one last link to him go; her painful betrayal echoed in her emotions as she finally discovered the truth in my answer: that I loved them both equally, for different reasons.

"Jasper, I won't rip it or anything. I just want to make it into something sightlier, alright?" Her forced smile faltered under my gaze, her eyes dull and tired.

I shook my head and clutched the piece of his shirt closer to my heart. "No."

"Jazz, I just want to make it into a bracelet for you. I won't do anything you don't want me to do." And I knew she was really saying, _I won't do anything to hurt you, just yet_. So I hesitated once, still wanting that small piece of him with me at all times, before giving it to her, chanting in my mind, _Gently, gently, be careful_; the threads were falling apart, even as I passed my protected treasure to her.

"Please," I asked her, watching one of the two most important possessions as she took it from me. A thread fell onto the bed and I winced, wanting to fix it to the fabric, if only I knew how to sew.

Alice's disgust couldn't be filtered, but her still-pleasant voice cooed to me, "But, of course, Jasper. Now, just let me find some needle and thread …" However, I knew she was also planning on calling Emmett to watch me so she could work elsewhere; where she wouldn't have to worry about concealing her hostile rage and could spit venomous remarks as her fingers danced above the scrap of his shirt, the needle darting in and out like voodoo enchantments.

I limply lay on the bed, ignoring her as she rushed around to gather everything, petite hands pawing at draws of thread, pin cushion already in her pocket with _His_ shirt. Less than half-a-dozen seconds later, she was ready to leave. Then, she called Emmett into the room, advising him to watch me and not let me near the closet. And I understood, and was grateful; I didn't need any more reminders of _Him_.

Hours later, around noon, she returned, a pretty bracelet in her hands. The edges were not frayed, much to my delight, and the fabric was sturdy and washed clean. When I asked her how, she had smiled sadly and said, "With tears and kisses, dear. That's the best way to keep the fabric sure and strong, like my mother had said."

It was indeed a beautiful work. She had braided it in tiny strips, and woven those pieces into knots and loops and shapes, all shades of charcoal and ink and gray --- and I saw that she had woven in bits of my own shirt, from that day. It was a bracelet full of memories, one that had seen things that were forbidden and desired, uncontrollable.

A shadow of anticipation --- not joy, but something in between numbness and simple wanting of the new possession, like a child at a toy store --- filled me as I held out my hand for her to put it on me, but Alice shook her head. I looked at her, waiting for an explanation. She sighed heavily before answering, and her hand rubbed her temples. The beautiful bracelet was abandoned to her lap.

"No, I refuse to have it on the same hand as your wedding ring. I simply won't have it! I will … consider putting it on your other hand, though."

I immediately agreed, needed the one piece of _Him_ back with me.

She was quiet, and then placed the twisted fabric around my wrist. Before I could ask how she was to secure it, a threaded needle was in her hands, and with my help, she stitched the edges tight.

When it was done, she pulled away and closed her eyes, exhausted. The visions, heartache, and loss had worn her. Even though she was forever physically young, her eyes betrayed her true age; it was as if she had gained fifteen years in a single day.

I reached out a hand, cradling her cheek. She smiled slightly and leaned into my touch.

"I'll miss you."

Not knowing what her vision had been of, I let the unknown lie untouched. I feared it. "And I will always want to be with you," I whispered.

"I know."

We stayed like that, intimate and yet strangers, for some time before Alice sighed. Rousing herself from her mental slumber, she pulled away, opening her golden eyes. We were silent as she stood and leaned forward to kiss my cheek.

"Remember me," she asked. Her eyes begged me.

So I vowed to her: "I will." _Now and forever._

**XXX**

That afternoon, immediately after Alice left my room as the sun lit the frothy white curtains golden, Esme entered the black space. Her perfect hair was loose, eyes tired from a night full of delicate, motherly sobs; she had not bothered with changing from yesterday's dress, and her feet were bare. She, too, was mourning.

Slowly, she crossed the carpeted floors to the bed where I listlessly lay. Worry and sympathy flowed from her like wine.

I stared out the covered window, ignoring her. Outside, the sun was shining, a false beacon of light, and birds chirped as they flittered through the gardens. Trees rustled in the cool breeze as the last of their leaves stubbornly clung to their respective twigs and branches. I couldn't help but think about how they both were so stubborn, the leaves and _Him_; how they were like silly children at times!

On the pillowed ground, shadows danced, distorted by the curtain's sheer weight, and they gained volume and power as they moved along the wallpapered walls. The shapes within the floral paper of Esme's room seemed to move, as if there was a person moving them, shaking the ivy and abstract, pastel shapes of vague flowers. But these walls were coated with bright light, and not painted sickly sulfur, I thought. But how long does it take someone to go mad if half their heart and soul leaves them, spurred by hate and shock?

I didn't know, and I didn't want to find out.

The edge of the mattress drooped under Esme's slight weight, an extra shadow added to the moving patterns of light and darkness. She was quiet, cautiously gathering her words and courage, for some time. It wasn't until the sun had descended another forty-eight degrees that she finally spoke. By then, clouds had gathered around the brilliant sun and trapped it with their nets of lightning and thunder; water sprinkled onto the lawn, leaving raindrops on the open mouths of the trumpet flowers. Her soft voice was a whisper against the harpy fury of the storm.

"Jasper," she began, fiddling with her hands, fingers twisting around each other in her lap. They were white against her black dress, like tiny albino snakes, and I couldn't help but recall the mourning the colors convey; both black and white, the two universal colors of death, depending on the culture. I looked away, out to the pouring rain, which splattered against the glass windows. It was cold out there, dark and lonely.

But then again, what wasn't?

"Jasper," she said again, bringing me back from my musings. I turned to face her

I sighed heavily, hiding my face in my hands. I couldn't bear to look at her as I spoke. "I did something that was … uncomfortable for him."

Esme's eyes widened and I knew that the questions would not stop until her appetite was satiated. Her cool hand snatched my own at lightning speed. "Jasper, please, tell me. You're the only one who knows what happened to my son!"

"I-I wish I could tell you, but …" I stopped, exhaling as I twisted my bracelet around my wrist. My mouth was sealed shut, glued with secrets that should lay with the dead; I had neither the will nor the energy to tell her what had occurred that night and had begun days before: an intense, fast relationship with her first and dearest son.

She waited for me to carry on speaking, but then stopped waiting. Esme, it seemed, had realized that I wouldn't (or couldn't) continue, noticed my new bracelet and gestured to it. I stiffened, the ache inside my heart flaring into life.

"Jasper, what is that?" Her voice was odd, flavored with recognition and vibrant emotions stifling the air around me: she knew that was _His_ shirt the night she had left, struck by his unkempt appearance; she was so, so concerned about my reaction; she longed for her son, wanting to smother him with her love and forgive him for the careless words, knowing that he regretted them; she worried for him, knowing that he wouldn't return tomorrow or day after, possibly even months or years. She was heartbroken and alone and suffering, just like I was.

I smiled weakly up at her. "A bracelet." Remembrance of what is lost.

She knew what it was. However, she had no idea of the special meaning it held for me.

As I fingered the dark cloth --- black and gray twined in intricate knots and loops --- her hand came down, covering mine, halting my nervous movements. I didn't look up.

Esme stared at me for a long moment, eyes curious. Then, she spoke, voice soft as swan feathers.

"Jasper," she began, "I would like to consider you as one of my sons, like Emmett, or … Edward." I flinched when I heard his name, a swift cocktail of betrayal, heartache, and numbness mixing in an acidic pang that struck me across my chest. Esme paused, and waited for my stiff shoulders to relax. They didn't, so she continued all the same.

"I know something happened between you and Edward, Jasper ---" this time, she ignored the stop in breath, the instinctive curving inward of shoulders to protect my aching heart, recklessly torn into bits "--- but I don't know _what_ occurred. I … I miss my son. I've never seen him like that before … never, not once in the twenty-eight years I have known him.

"I want to know, Jasper. I-I just can't comprehend w-why he would say those things, and do that to us …" Soft, hushed sobs made her shoulders shake, her hand snapping away from my own to cover her face. I felt her sorrow, deep as a crevice in the ocean, and surrendered to it, letting her control my fluctuating emotions. I didn't want to feel any more. I was tired, and alone, and lost in a depreciating, ugly world.

So I gave into it.

To _pain_.

I lowered all of the barriers that kept me sane and safe from the agony of others' crushing emotions and gasped at the raw intensity of it; it burned me from the inside, scraping the last touches of intelligence from my mind, and made me into a dumb animal. I only knew the drive to escape the pain that left me cowering, a shriveling shadow of a man. I leapt up from the bed, rushing out the door and into the wild, where the shadows were long and dark, and the _pain_ inside of me that wickedly burnt a gruesome smile on my heart would disappear. I longed for the night, and the utter darkness of a cave, the _drip, drip, drip _of stalactites as the cool condensation pooled onto the floor in mirror puddles. I longed for the solitude, to be alone, away from others, and not have to worry about the waking nightmares that were sure to haunt me.

But most of all, I wanted _Him_ back.

I wanted his secret smiles (like he was always hiding something from the world) and his dark, self-hating ways. I wanted his kind laughter and velvet voice; I missed his golden eyes, so expressive that I almost didn't need to be an empathy with him. I wanted to be near him, just to feel his aura and watch him speak and move and think.

I missed him.

But I needed to escape from the pain, the very thing I had just sought.

So I ran. I fled from a sobbing, broken mother, my heart-broken wife, and the family I had torn apart. I hurried out the door and into the stormy night, chasing away the unwanted memories that welled up within me each time the thunder clapped and boomed, or the rain soaked my shirt, and the wet, woven bracelet that encircled my right wrist pulled against my marble skin. I ran from it all, but I couldn't escape the shadows.

Esme's agony was intense, reminding me of what I _should _feel, but I didn't, except in the moments when I _remembered_.

Then, I simply … gave up. I stopped trying to ignore how it was tearing me up inside, and how I wanted to _cry_, but I couldn't. Sinking to the forest floor, I curled into a ball. The withheld sobs burst from me, my chest on fire; my hands clawed at my skin, but I couldn't tear away the flesh to take my mutilated heart from my body. It was the source of the burning, the pain, and I wanted it to _go away_.

I didn't know how long I was out there, but it had been some time, my screams having long weakened into tiny sobs. The front of my shirt was in shreds; my hard diamond skin was intact, the only sign of my attempt to cut out my heart a handful of fresh, white scratches. I do remember that Rosalie was the first to find me, though.

As soon as she had checked me, seeing if I was physically still alive, whole, and mentally aware (to some level), she called her husband over. I was then carried off by Emmett; Rosalie cooed soft phrases into my ear and petting my hair like one would a child, but it helped all the same. I was placed in their room and Rosalie stood by me through the night. She told me that Edward was just being silly, and was a total bearcat; she didn't know what had happened between us, and she was right about that. _He_ was fiery and unpredictable, shaking up my practiced soldier composure.

It was strange, to think that not even Alice could surprise me, after the initial shock of meeting her, but that _He_ was already throwing me off my feet. I could feel the hard mask of the past years begin to slip away around him, hairline cracks at the edges of my protective barrier, and feared; for what would've happened if I had lost it, and he had left me, alone and pleading, as he had before?

I stiffened at the thought, pulling away from her, but she just threw her golden waves over a shoulder, clucked her tongue, and pulled me close. Then she whispered that she knew, as she fingered the band around my wrist, that I fancied him, and told me her own stories of his cold disposition and belief of wholeness in himself, his uptight morals and self-hatred, all of which hindered any romantic notions. Yes, he was extremely handsome and smart and talented, but he would never put any of those pretty qualities to good use.

"I'm not angry that he never showed any interest in me," she whispered as the moon passed overhead, lighting up a portion of the carpeted floor in rectangles and diamonds and squares of the window panes. I stared at my blackish bracelet, wondering if it was true. Her emotions still revealed a tinge of resentment, and I would understand. Rosalie was a gorgeous creature, perfect in her beauty and able to charm all men and humans with ease, but I'm sure she was put out when He didn't want her like _that_.

Her body shook with musical laughter when I scowled and snorted at her.

"Alright, I'll admit that I still am somewhat upset about it. But if he had, I never would have met Emmett." I heard the smile in her voice and felt the love that pulsed in her for him and only him. It confused me (because why did I feel like I had _two_ mates rather than one, like I should?) and I frowned as I thought it over. Rosalie was content with the silence and continued to pet my hair, rubbing soothing circles on the back of my hand (she would have made a fine mother, I thought).

Then, once I decided that it really had no answer and I was simply a freak of nature, goofy and inevitably doomed --- how was I to please both parties when one couldn't stand the sight of me and the other was crying because of my misplaced affections? I couldn't.

After all his faults were told, she whispered to me how Edward had begun smiling again, and was actually happy now, with me around, but feared being known as a gunsel. It didn't take another mind reader to know that, she had said.

For the rest of the night, Rosalie told me stories (silly little fairytales she made up) involving the coven I was currently destroying. She told me of wild, nine-tailed foxes and horrid beasts that stalked the woods with blood-stained teeth, but were slayed by a mighty warrior; princes and princesses and queens and kings in castles that floated in the blue-skied heavens and a prince who didn't want to be a prince, and wandered off to become a pirate before returning; and fantastic gardens that would make a landscaper weep with joy, and the ordinary man to fall under its heady perfume and beauty and leave their own world behind in favor of the glorious gardens. She spun them like one would sugary cotton candy, but with a bitter aftertaste: on the surface, they were nothing more than pretty tales, but they all held a deeper meaning concerning my situation. I listened well to them, sure the inner moral would eventually come to light.

The last one, she sung to me, her melodic voice weaving haunting lyrics of doubt and worry and confusion and self-hate, but also temptation and wanting, and I knew she was putting music to his emotions. I indulged her mothering tendencies, letting her comfort me and hold me close, like a despairing child. I didn't mind it; it was more pleasant than Alice's accusations and unsure hopes, her clumsy comforts, for she was as broken as I was (even if the reason was different) or Esme's sobbing cries of her lost son.

It felt like loss, and I embraced it.

**XXX**

In the middle of the night, near dawn, Emmett came into the room to see how Rose was faring. I was tilted away, out towards the window, but in my peripheral, I saw his mountainous figure cut a white slash in the dreary room, all muscle and sinew; and he kissed her softly, like how I had wanted to kiss _Him_.

He had held her close, like a lover, and brushed her long flaxen hair with his hands.

"Rosie," he whispered to her, so softly that I had to strain to hear, "Rose, what's wrong with him and Edward?"

She had sighed, love and worry blossoming within her, all tints of pink and orange and baby blue, sweet and slightly sour. "I can't tell you."

"Baby, you can tell me anything."

"No, not this. That's his secret to tell, not mine."

It was quiet. The moon was large, fat on the stolen light of the sun as it purified the golden glow into a pale silvery-white light. The stars twinkled, and I knew that it would be sunny tomorrow, not a cloud in the sky.

The sounds of kissing echoed loud in the stillness, and the fire burned inside me again. I clutched my midsection, hopelessly trying to quell the inferno that raged whenever I thought of _Him_. Rosalie was the first to pull away.

"Emmett," she hissed, "We can't do this!"

"Why?"

"Because …" she trailed off, making a vague gesture at me.

"Oh!" And then softer, "_Oh_."

"Yeah."

And it was quiet as they both stared at me, each thinking of two different people who had once made my world go 'round.

**XXX**

After that, Rosalie had gathered me back up in her arms and kissed the top of my head.

"I didn't tell him," she murmured to me. I nodded once before falling back against her.

"Thanks."

"Anytime." Then, she returned to her hauntingly enchanting songs, voice fluttering over and around the notes; she sounded like a angel when she sang. She sang until the sun, a bright golden coin, glowed bright white at the pinnacle of the sky, and the shadows on my floor melted away, chased away by the light of a new day.

When I left my room, the household was in chaos, busily packing and storing goods at lightning speed. Alice was nowhere in sight.

As I numbly helped cover the furniture with white sheets and preserve precious objects in newsprint, packing them in boxes, I never once looked for my wife, knowing already that she was gone, like He was. Rosalie was always beside me, humming gently as she led me to rooms to care for in the absence of the homeowners; like the night before, she was ready to reassure me with a gentle hug or a flood of love and sympathy in her emotions.

When we entered Alice's and my room, Rosalie took nothing, assuring me that Alice had already taken her wanted belongings. She told me to take what I needed in the future.

In the end, I left the silk draperies and plush linens, the numerous clothes of mine and books. The only thing I stowed away inside my small suitcase was a hidden leather jacket, still in its plastic bag. My wedding ring and bracelet, two other prizes, I kept on my person.

But when finding this treasure, I had to look away when I saw, on top of the jacket, a golden band inscribed to Alice, from her loving husband and a note. Those I pocketed for later viewing, ignoring the pangs in my chest. The familiar numbness consumed me.

Rosalie had simply hugged me and whispered, "She just needs time," before steering me away from the room. I didn't feel anything; I followed instructions, though, a blank expression on my face, emotions held tightly in check.

That night, we left for Alaska.

**x**

**x**

**x**

Bearcat (N): a hot-blooded or fiery girl

Cash or check (N): kisses now or later?

Goofy (V): in love

Necking (V): making out

Gunsel (N): a young homosexual

* * *

**A/N: Yes, it's totally late, sorry (Lots of excuses, lots of things going on)!**

**Thanks for the reviews, guys! They really keep this story going!**


	11. Chapter Ten

**Edward**

The moon was high when I finally arrived, her white face full, cheeks lifted in a smile. I put the car in park, some distance from the house, and then leaned back into the seat with a weary sigh.

What _was_ I doing here?

I glanced out my window, watching the light dusting of snow, the crystals appearing like iced fairy dust as they were swept aside by the wind, each one turned silver in the spilled moonlight. Nearby, as I knew, a family of immortals played, wondering if I was the first of my coven to arrive. Their appointed leader, a lovely strawberry blonde, was eager, already gathering the others to her.

_Edward,_ she called out, _Would you be willing to join us? The rest of your family is invited as well._

I sighed, covering my face with my hands. God, Tanya! I didn't need this right now! My mind, so conflicted, so confused and yet sure, told me to go to the family --- I needed their help, after all. They were vital to my plan for escape, a necessity.

Carmen joined in. _Edward, where have you been? You should see Tanya --- she's practically bouncing in joy! Please, join us. _Her mental laughter filled the night at the image of Tanya rushing around, reddish hair bouncing along her back; her eyes were bright, mischievous.

I groaned, head falling back against the headrest. Why did she have to be so eager? I wasn't looking forward to having to reject her affections again, especially when the mere thought of being with another --- even the beautiful Tanya, or any of her sisters --- made me sick to my stomach; acid bubbled within me, and I clutched my abdomen.

I wasn't ready for this --- any of this.

But I needed answers.

My fist tightened on the steering wheel, and I felt the plastic give under my touch, molding to my fingers as if it was molten. I had to go inside and meet them, I knew this; I needed their aid, and I had to secure it before my once-upon-a-time coven arrived.

Tanya was still pleading with me, her mind both revoltingly suggestive and comforting --- I knew what to expect from her.

Opening my eyes, I looked outside. The moon had risen further, and glowed bright. Stars twinkled like tiny gems, white as crystals and hard as diamonds. They looked like scattered tears. Farther out, I saw a shooting star, its light flashing dangerously as it crossed the sky in a violent search for its end. I wondered, suddenly --- my thoughts tossed into haywire with the idea of that one little star chasing after the Reaper clothed in shadows --- whether I was subconsciously searching for my own demise, too, through this trip.

From Carlisle, I knew that the Volturi were volatile, their moods and affections shifting at a moment's notice; Aro, their leader, was especially unpredictable, taking an instant liking or dislike to a person.

When I had first been turned, I had been trapped in the outskirts of Chicago, held captive because of my newborn bloodlust. Carlisle had brought me endless piles of books, a piano, and told me of his --- _our_ --- kind, and his life. Having spent decades with the vampire leaders, he had warned me of them. He told me that they were vicious, draining innocents, and cruel at times, killing without a second thought. I thought they were terrible beings, but cared more of my current life than a mystical, far-off one. I was selfish.

When I grew bored, months later, of the vampire tales and stories, their enchanting hold weaker than dusty talc, and I grew to hate what I had become, I had violent outbursts whenever he had mentioned anything pertaining to our current lives: hunting, moving, working, bloodlust, the covens. I had yelled and tore at my possessions, wrecking my room like an enraged toddler. Then, one day, he realized what I needed through trial and error: humanity.

I had dearly missed my soft skin and fallible nature, human food that was cooked and truly filling, and family and friends that I could actually _remember_. In my vampire mind, all of these memories were foggy; I knew facts, but couldn't recall faces or the actual memories. I was consumed with preserving that one speck of human life that beat within my breast.

One night, Carlisle had dragged my reluctant, trashing body outside. It was midnight, and in my vampire recollections, the events were as clear as photographs. I had sulked and whined, forever the puerile teenager, until Carlisle had sighed and pointed up at the sky.

"_Watch,_" was all that he had said.

And, although I was evil, I complied. Moments later, after searching the sky, I spied a tiny, baby-like star streaking across the sky in a line of white. It was then that he told me about a tradition I had forgotten: wishing on a shooting star.

What would I have wished for now, if I could?

The words caught in my throat, their poisonous offspring --- want and need and desolate _hope_ --- crawling down my esophagus and into my veins, and then my heart. Their spiny bodies poked holes in my ragged heart, and they began to feed off my suffering. Tiny screams bubbled up within my mouth, but were corralled by my sealed lips.

I heard a _crack_ as something broke. Startled, I looked down to see the edges of the steering wheel had broken off and was already molding to the form of the inside of my hands. With a shout, I pulled away, tossing the twisted bits through the window --- it broke with a crackle and shower of frozen glass, the shards large and small and razor-sharp, reflecting and shining the moonlight --- into the snow. It traveled maybe a half-mile or so, and was soon covered, hidden beneath powdery snow and glittering glass, painted platinum and white in the soft light.

My breath whooshed as it was sucked out of me by some unseen entity, heart and lungs cooled by the wintery temperatures, killed by the venom of my maker. It felt as though my chest was constricted by a dozen ropes, or biting steel cables with white-hot centers. I tried to breathe, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish, but I couldn't! Instead, it was pulled from my unwilling lips by a phantom; my heart was burned by his glittering black claws as they dug into the tender flesh of my soul; my eyes stung with unshed venom tears that he hungrily licked away.

But somehow, I fought and managed to find a single pocket of air in the choking atmosphere. And then, with that tiny whisper of a breath, I called the name of the one person whom I knew I could trust, and who would care for me.

"_Tanya_."

I felt blinded, consumed by pain as I was, and my arms hugged my chest as the demon sucked the life and joy from me; darkness and dolor consumed my thoughts. My eyes burned, and I wanted to cry.

I knew she would come help me, and I had hoped she would immediately arrive. My mind cast out, searching for her thoughts --- _Oh, I hope Edward decides to join us _--- _Should I wear blue, or butterscotch, to bring out my eyes? _---_ God, Garrett! Can it, you Abercrombie!_ --- _Tanya, cool it. He'll be here soon_ --- _Eleazar! Not now!_ --- lost in a jumbled mix of vampire whisperings.

With that hardly any air, I tried again. This time, a ragged sigh came forth, sounding nothing like her name. The phantom turned on me, claws digging deeper into my body.

_You wanted this_, it hissed, serpentine eyes flashing darkly. Feral teeth snapped. _You pushed him away, and no you belong to me. _

I tried to cry out, alert someone of the hallucination haunting me, for I knew deep inside it would vanish if someone would appear and help me, but my lips were sealed; my screams stayed silent.

Time passed in silence. The strange entity haunted me, laughing as it taunted and mocked me; I was sure that, already, I was beginning to go mad as a hatter! Shadows lurked in the corners of my mind, grinning at me wolfishly; they were held back by my mere hope and the monstrous hallucination; I knew, for these beings were a figment of my sinister imagination, that with a single command or break in my will, they would descend like the ravenous hounds of Hell.

My mind was set on Tanya's, alert, monitoring her every thought. Within ten minutes, she was moving to the window, preparing to spring outside and see why I hadn't left the car and visited them. I counted down the seconds as she internally debated the idea. Finally, anxious and worried, she told her family she was "checking up on me".

And I waited: breathless, suffering, and goddamn heartbroken.

When she had seen that I was still in the car, a look of fearful agony etched into my features, she immediately rushed out. The driver's door opened, metal pulling and twisting at her urgency, and her arms came around me. I sighed in relief when the shadows and phantom melted back into the corners of the woodwork and the edges of my terrified mind.

"Edward, what happened?"

I moaned, clutching my aching chest to hold the pieces of my broken heart together. I leaned toward her outstretched hand, eyes on her tumbling curls and golden eyes, the only parts of her that I could see. My vision was oddly blurry, but somehow clear --- like I was looking through a frosty window, the edges painted white with spider web ice and arctic lace, the center clear enough to see through.

Her thoughts turned frantic. Hands grabbed at me, pulling me to my feet; my head was cradled against her shoulder like a mourning child.

"Edward? I need you to talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

I looked up at her, the same fog obscuring the edges of my vision. I turned my head back against her shoulder once, and then pushed away from her. I stumbled, but held my footing.

She reached for me, eyes concerned. "Talk to me," she whispered. Her voice was tinged with grief, and her thoughts were flavored with honeyed sympathy.

Immediately, instinctually, I clouded my mind, protecting and preserving it from its fragile state. The pressure on my chest had lessened slightly, enough for me to shallowly breathe. I took a few breaths before whispering my needs to her.

"Tanya, I need you to take me to the Fairbanks. There's a man there who will get me where I need to go."

She froze, and then pulled me close. Her hands roamed over my chilled flesh, cold in the wintery temperatures, as she felt my forehead, tried to pat some life into my cheeks. _What? _"Edward, why? You're not in any condition to go, and ---"

"Tanya," I severely cut off, "Take me there, or I'll take the train. Either way, I'm leaving."

She sighed, staring into my eyes. I didn't want to know what she saw, so I kept my powers under a tight lock and key.

I began to plead, when I saw her lips twist in a sarcastic smirk. "Tanya, please ---"

"Fine. Get in the car."_ Move it, before I change my mind._

I sighed in relief. My body sagged against hers, molten under the combined force of the hallucinations and complete, utter loss. She moved to the passenger seat in a flash, helping me into the leather chair like one wounded. I suppose, in hindsight, I was.

"Thank you ---"

She cut me off. Her eyes burned like wicks, like determined fire as it consumed the wilderness without second thoughts of the damage rendered. They pieced and cut into me; I looked away, focused on the buckle in my hands.

"Don't go thanking me just yet, Edward. I want details and cold, hard facts. Tell me what the fuck is going on, because I _know _something's wrong, and I refuse to be kept out of the loop any longer." She paused. "I'll take you to Fairbanks, and that's it. It'll take some time, though, so you better fill me in." The _or else_ remained unspoken and implied, echoing in her thoughts.

I shivered at the implications of her words and considered, for a single moment, taking everything back, covering my current predicament with babbling phrases, strung together like pearls, meant to please and smooth over tough situations; I knew I could do it. However, the one thing keeping me in the passenger seat, holding me with invisible bars of steel and molten fire and glacier ice from the crags of Pluto, was the dread of the returning monsters. And so, gripping the flimsy seat belt --- a string of frail spider silk to me, my strength and connection to reality --- tight in my palms --- dry and smooth as ever, but I imagined them slick with salty sweat, like my eyes, wet with dewdrop tears.

"Do you agree?"

I shook once more. My life was in her hands if I agreed, knowing her. But what could I do? I wet my lips, venom searing the shallow marks in my lip from the fierce lip-biting the past few days. I wondered, vaguely, if they would scar.

"Well?" _Do you have an answer?_

I looked up at her, hands still clutching at the fragile, all-powerful thread. Her eyes were still fire and brimstone. I needed an ally, and everything in the dark world of vampires was manipulation, territory and blood, and allies. Having lost my coven, I was now alone and vulnerable.

With a second reason to agree pounding --- throbbing --- inside my skull, I solemnly nodded my head.

"Yes," I whispered at first, and then said it once more, stronger, steadier. "Yes, Tanya. I agree."

**XXX**

"Why are you here?"

I curled into the padding of the seat like a lounging kitten, fingers pressed against my temples. Her mind was focused; there would be no stray thoughts in this argument.

I sighed, imagining tendrils of white smoke blooming from my mouth; if it was cold enough --- usually in areas of the Arctic Circle --- my family and kind could exhale and create delicious white roses, woven with silent wishes and dreams, in our breath. However, it was too warm here, at the end of autumn.

My eyes roamed around the moving features of the outdoors, cataloguing the trees and white mountain tops. We were traveling very fast --- close to one-twenty. "I don't know," I confessed.

Tanya frowned. She never had liked the unknown. "What do you mean, you don't know?" _I know you have an answer. Tell me the truth, Edward._

I shook my head. No, I would never reveal the truth behind my actions to her --- to _anyone_.

"I mean that I came up here on a whim." Truth. "I just needed help." Another truth. "I don't have any idea why I left early, though." Lie.

"You don't?" Eyes flashed, lips curling in a satisfied smirk.

Keeping my breathing steady, I looked into her eyes. "No, I don't."

She switched tactics. "Where are you headed?"

"Europe."

She sighed. "_Where_ in Europe?" _Stop being a difficult ass!_

"Where it's warm." How much longer could I avoid truthfully responding? I had a feeling that her temper would soon get in the way.

Her hands banged on the steering wheel. The plastic crunched and shifted under the force of her blows. "Goddamn it! Give me a straight answer and not some half-truth! I won't tell anyone, if it means that much to you, and help you out, alright?"

Smiling sadly, I said, "Thank you." An oath by a vampire was sound a true --- once the loopholes were filled, of course. My secret was safe in her hands; fingers twined nervously together as I opened my mouth to confess. "I'm going to Italy to visit the Volturi."

Rubber shrieked as the car jolted to a stop, swerving to the sides of the empty road.

"_What_?" _Oh, you stupid, fucking moron! You _imbecile_! Do you have any idea what's in store for you when you arrive, and the chances of escaping their grasp? And why the Hell are you even considering heading there, to the cave of elusive, bloodthirsty beasts? Idiot, idiot,_ idiot! _You'll be ripped to shreds ---!_

"Tanya!" I yelped, grasping her shoulders. "Put the car in park and I'll explain."

She snorted. _Oh, of course _he_ can be calm, not knowing what's in store for him. 'Just put the car in park and sunshines and rainbows will sprout up as I tell you how I'm planning to escape enslavement' … Ha!_

I held in a chuckle. "Just wait and listen. Please."

This time, with as much inner monologue, she complied. The door to her side opened and slammed shut, golden raspberry hair tossed haphazardly over one shoulder; pursed lips cried out insults and dry remarks. Her arms akimbo, eyes leering, she stood and waited as I pushed myself out of the car and onto the street, a slow, laborious process.

When I finally stood before her, leaning against the car for support, she came close. Her arms went around either side of my figure, pining me like a butterfly under glass. Teeth snapped near my ear as she whispered, deathly soft, "So, Edward, care to explain your _grand plan_ to me?"

Carefully, I pushed her away. She was livid. "Actually, yes, I do. Don't worry --- I'll be fine --- but I do need to go there to find some vital information pertaining to my current predicament. I could always go to the Romanians, but why not gain the trust and support of the largest coven?"

"And what," Tanya hissed, "Is your current predicament?"

I licked my lips, staring at the road, bleached by years of salt and snow. I stalled anyway I could, using the human techniques of fidgeting and avoidance. Tanya wouldn't have that though --- she lacked the mothering instinct that had thrived within Rosalie and Esme --- and so there would be no beating around the bush.

_I don't want another bull crap story!_ "Tell me the _truth_, Edward." Her fingers pushed up on my chin, forcing me to lift my head and look at her. "Tell me why you suddenly need to go to some murderers."

Morosely, I kicked at the ground. My shoes were beginning to get scuffed up. "I-I just need to, okay?"

She was silent for a moment, simply thinking. I was soon enveloped in the swift tide and ebb of her thoughts, some cool like sweet spring water, others as fiery and burning as a furnace. Immersed in her wonderings, I closed my eyes and smiled softly. Rarely, if ever, did I hide myself so deeply within another's mind, and once I did, I was able to forget all of my own thoughts; I became the person, so to speak. Her voice shook me out of that contentment, and I was thrust into the alarming world of the living.

"You're forever the teenager, huh?" Her golden irises gleamed with silvery strands, reminding me of the succubus she was, and how I had never thought of her, or any other female, as more than "pretty", but how that one male could be "gorgeous" and "perfect". I looked at her, studying my reactions for future knowledge.

By no means was Tanya less than beautiful --- her sisters and her had ensnared many human men before their diet changed, and after that the numbers only increased. Like Rosalie, she was lovely, a picture to look at, but was not the apple of my eye. With long, perfect curls of strawberry hue, and glowing golden eyes, smooth, even skin, she was nice enough to look at; her body, theoretically, was even better, with a wasp-thin waist, wide hips and a large bosom. With mile-high gams and a body stripped of any unnecessary fat, she was, in short, extremely keen.

So why did I feel nothing more than friendship when I looked at her? There was no sexual attraction, no lightning heating the air, when I saw her and touched her. I felt no desire to neck her or hold her close. I didn't want to create a life with her. _I didn't want her like that._

Shocked by the discovery, I pinched my nose. Tanya made to speak, but I held up my hand.

Perhaps she wasn't my mate, and that was why I didn't desire her. Maybe I would find my own mate when I want to Italy, or traveled to the other covens; it was a possibility. And my family members were just that --- family. It would be very, very wrong to want one who I saw as a sister or mother.

Satisfied, I nodded slightly. After I discovered the mysteries of the Volturi sexuality, I would look for my mate. However, there was one last thing I had to try to be sure.

I looked down at poor, confused Tanya. Her eyebrows were drawn, nose slightly crinkled at the bridge as she asked herself, _What the Hell is he planning_?

Oh, Tanya, if only you knew.

Gathering my courage, I took a deep breath and exhaled. The air was fresh and crisp, lightly spiced with the too-sugary decay of leaves and faint traces of blood from the animals, from the humans. I could almost smell the winter as it prepared to come upon us. And then, I spoke: "Tanya, will you allow me to kiss you?"

She gaped like a fish, eyes wide; she had not expected _that._ "_What_?"

To keep my fingers from nervously twisting and twining, I thrust my hands in my pockets. Resolutely, I kept my eyes on her.

"Tanya, as a friend, I'm asking you to let me try something. It's … a strange request, I know, but it's important all the same. I'm asking you as a lovely young woman to kiss me as a man, but only if it won't affect our current relationship." There. I had said it.

Those pretty golden eyes got even wider. She blinked, pouting; a hand rested on her forehead, as if she had a headache. "Excuse me for a moment. Did I just hear you ask me for a passionate kiss, after which we plan to just stay friends?" _I must be losing my hearing! There is no goddamn way Edward would _ever_ ask for such a thing --- ever_!

I ran a hand through my hair; embarrassment flooded my veins. "Tanya, I realize that this is extremely rude of me, and I apologize. I'm just having some …" How could I phrase it? "Romantic difficulties at the moment that I need to figure out. I'm sorry for having offended you."

She stared and stared, never moving from her position, like a marble statue. The seconds passed slowly, each one a counted boom in the stillness. Then, suddenly, she burst out in silvery laughter.

"Oh, Edward!" she giggled, hands clutching at her abdomen. "I would've never, ever expected something like that from _you_! No, don't leave ---" she grabbed my arm to stop me from returning to the car "--- I'm just shocked, that's all. Really, really surprised, but pleasantly so."

Cat-like eyes observed my minute fidgets, oddly hungry. "You know Edward, I have to say that I'm not at all … opposed to the idea," she purred, fingers caressing the underside of my wrist. I gulped, considering drawing back behind the barriers --- where it was safe.

"I've liked you for quite some time, you know. I've just … given up hope that you might return my affections." She paused, placing a hand on my chest. It didn't make me desire her, or feel anything more than sisterly love; in fact, I was slightly repulsed. Should I pick up her hand gingerly, like one would with a many-legged, spidery insect, and throw it back at her, like I wanted to? Or should I remain the gentleman and allow her unwanted advances to continue; only stopping her when they endangered her virtue, or my own?

Internally, I grumbled. Damn instilled values!

Her hand snaked its way behind my neck, and she lured me closer, pulling my reluctant frame close; I could feel her breath beat against my lips, whispering, _Open_.

I kept my mouth shut --- tightly: locked, chained, sealed.

Feathered lashes --- too thick and dark for my tastes --- fluttered as she spoke. "I'll take any chance I can with you, Edward; who could resist a man like you? And," she drew closer still, lips gently pressing against my own, "I'm always ready for more … experiments you might want to conduct."

Gulping, I forced myself to look at her, and nod. It was for the sake of science.

Her eyes widened, and she tentatively pressed her lips against my own --- I, still as carved stone --- and when she wasn't instantly rejected, enthusiastically began to kiss me. Her lips twisted and twined against my own until I was coaxed into responding; then, I followed through with the motions, but there was no drive, no _passion_ behind them.

It was only when her slimy tongue began to trace my bottom lip that I gave into my true desires and pushed her away. Face averted, I only just stopped myself from wiping my lips and ridding myself of her too-eager kisses, or --- even worse --- spitting on the ground. Through her mind, I saw myself, a disgusted look on my face. For her sake, I schooled my features into a somewhat more pleasant grimace.

It was, unfortunately, nothing like kissing Jasper.

Like comparing the night and day, or fire and ice, Tanya's kisses were painful --- and her beetle-length nails scratched oddly against my neck --- while Jasper's were … refreshing, and sweet … and full of fire, and lightning, and _electricity_.

The only plausible explanation I could come up with was that she was too much of a sister to me for any romance to occur. And although she had seemed to enjoy it, perhaps she saw me as something more --- a potential mate, maybe.

But now I knew for sure: she was not my mate.

I looked at Tanya, her face a cold mask, her eyes nervous and burning. She knew the truth; there was no need to voice it and add vinegar to the wound.

But I still ducked my head and apologized, much to her anger.

"Edward!" she burst out, and in her mind, I saw her shaking some sense into me. "Don't fret! We're obviously not compatible that way and better off as friends than lovers or mates. Besides, I didn't even feel a spark." Her eyes betrayed her lie.

I sighed, and she rushed me back into the car, peppering me with reassuring comments, all the while silently crying inside her mind. I wanted to make her feel better, but I was afraid: too much emotion and womanly hormones terrified me, a subconscious emotion inspired by Rosalie and Tanya's wild tempers and sudden mood swings. And I was also afraid that I would say the wrong thing and make it worse, or even loose her friendship, something I highly valued.

We drove in silence, her hands on the wheel and my palm on her shoulder. I rubbed circles into her arm, occasionally awkwardly taking her hand. She told me all about the Volturi, and I listened appreciatively, and then told her an edited version of my tale while she, in turn, listened. All the while, the miles melted away and within an hour's time, we had arrived at Fairbanks.

I had no real luggage, only a tiny, borrowed bag with my needed possessions; taking it in one hand, I left the car and entered the small home of the pilot; nearby, a ragged-looking airplane stood, waiting to be tested. It would only take me to the next man, who dwelled in Canada. From there, I would fly to New York, and then catch a flight to Europe, and finally fly to Italy.

Tanya waited as I talked and persuaded the pilot, and then stood by me as the man wearily prepared the propeller plane. I tried to catch her eye numerous times, but she wouldn't let me.

We finally were ready to leave hours later, a hefty paycheck warming the man's pocket, around eight o' clock; the stars were high then, the night already beginni. I sighed as I shoved my bag in the back of the plane. If there was one thing I didn't miss about Alaska, it was the absurdly early sunsets and late sunrises of the winter; I, ironically, loved seeing the sun, and couldn't get enough of it. The dark was a time of lurking and sneaking, but the day --- ah, the day! --- was living, breathing; a time when people walked and talked, fragile hearts thrumming like hummingbird wings and propellers, and the air was sweetened with sunlight, gaining the flavor of honey. I adored watching sunsets and sunrises, seeing the colors wash over the sky with a master painter's skill. And each morning and night, they were _different_, never the same in my thirty-some years!

However, I always watched, never playing in the dancing, shimmering light, never lounging in its warmth. And it was the riskiest time of the day --- not at all like dusk, or midnight, where we vampires we safe in the dark shadows, unable to give away our inhuman nature.

I looked at Tanya. Unlike me, she lived for the night --- the mystery, as she called it. Her and her sisters used to dance beneath the moon and trace constellations with their fingers, when they weren't with their men, of course. They always seemed to feel comforted when cloaked in night's cool embrace, wrapped in pitch and silver. My family members, too, rejoiced in the night as well, but also in the day; I shied away from the first.

Maybe I was always odd, and never noticed it.

The man called out to me, voice hoarse from decades of smoking. "Are you com'n or not?"

Sighing, I reached for my dearest friend. It was only through her complacent mood that I snagged it at human speed, aware of the watching man. She refused to look at me, but allowed me to continue --- the pilot thought of us as a quarreling couple, and I suppose at that moment we resembled one. I kissed her cheek, my only way of thanking her, and boarded the rickety plane.

However, when I turned around and looked out the window, she was already gone.

**x**

**x**

**x**

Abercrombie (n): know-it-all

Evil (v): in a bad mood

Mad as a Hatter (adj): to go crazy; to become insane

Gams (n): legs

Keen (adj): attractive, appealing

Neck (v): to kiss with passion

* * *

**A/n:**** Boy, am I glad motherly Rosalie was well-recieved, but I'm curious of what you'll think of Tanya, though. Hmm ...**

**Major thanks to Touchstone, Starfish422, and mozzer0906 for their recs on this fic! They can be found at Twislash Unveiled and Fictionators. AND! I have a thread! Very happy right now :) Love you reviewers --- you make my day!**

**Reviewers get a preview of next chapter ;) We're talking ITALY baby!**


	12. Chapter Eleven

**A/n: Okay, I know this is SUPER late, so I made it the longest chapter yet. I'm suffering from writer's block, and it's awful :(**

**This will be finished, I'll make sure of that, but the updates will be fewer until I get my muse back, which will be hopefully soon.**

**Reviews=love :)**

**Kisses to ginama for the Italian! Much, much better than the online stuff ;)**

* * *

**Edward**

The plane trips went easier than I had expected. Bundled up in concealing sweaters and hooded jackets, I managed to hide from the sun when it was out. For most of the many flights, I pretended to sleep, face hidden away in the folds of a blanket and edges of a pillow; when necessary, I picked excuses from the many pilots' minds to smooth away their concern and worry.

From place to place, I traveled, never stopping --- when I landed, I thanked the pilot and moved away into the shadows, where I belonged. At dusk, I met with the next pilot, bargaining with them, and paid him whatever money required to make the journey possible.

It was only when I, locked in a hotel room, waiting and waiting for the glorious, revealing sun --- a golden disk; a venomous serpent's eye that watched me, waiting to strike --- to rest, that the hallucinations struck. When I was alone, they crept up behind me, slithering along the carpeted floors to where I helplessly huddled as a victim --- Ha! Me, a victim! For although I possessed physical weapons and skills beyond comparison, when it came to the draining ghosts --- their faces of transparent pitch cloth and big, lifeless eyes, like black buttons, fangs and claws poised to strike --- I was as vulnerable as a newborn babe without its mother.

I suppose that by the third day, I could be considered insane, a fact that neither shocked nor pleased me. However, I knew it to be true just as I knew I was soulless; it was a statement of fact, a pure, ugly truth.

When shadows speak and attempt to seduce you into returning --- a fate worse than death for me --- or gleefully jumping into a pit of fire, and you can swear that you feel their oily caresses as they call you their own; or when faded poltergeists haunt you and accuse with craggy laughter, you know that you've lost your mind.

I began to see them in the faces of men and women, and in their hearts and souls; not even the purest child was spared the burn of their touch; they were like sin incarnated. The first time, it was in the face of a mother holding her red-headed child close among the throng. I had frozen in shock as the very ghost that had been haunting me had petted her head and whispered things into her ear: _Now, don't turn away from me. That's not very nice, Dearie; I could make the pain go away, after all. I could make anyone's pain go away, even _his_._

The claws moved to her breast, where her heart lay. And they squeezed, tight.

And then, it caught my eye. Its razor teeth, made of canines and fangs and sharp, piercing bone, were revealed with a slow grin. The wolfish grin made me shiver.

I fled, rushing into the nearest bar, where I was sure to be safe inside the sweet canopy of drunken thoughts and intoxicated blood. To my horror, more monsters lurked, their bodies tight against the innocent and guilty to varying degrees. Even worse, the men and women never noticed a single thing.

Ah, but the demons knew me, greeting me like a long-lost friend! Some coiled closer to their host's body, like blackest leeches, but others came close to me, hissing cruel remarks about my choice, and of poor Jasper. And I felt such an intense _cold_ inside my heart when they called me rude, awful names, that I believed them. And I knew the truth:

I wasn't safe. I _never_ was safe.

That night, in my haste to leave the city of doomed souls, I paid the pilot extra to leave an hour ahead of schedule. Thankfully, that was the only time I saw the monsters.

**XXX**

Italy was a wonder, a mix of old and new, a beauty. It was if Venus had enchanted the lands with everlasting romance, after, of course, Mars had finished ravaging the fields with his temper. In the dark of dusk, the sky a dusty indigo streaked with dull copper and rusted gold, I traveled swiftly, boarding a train to Florence from Rome, and then once more setting out. This time, I took a bus, once that would, finally, take me to my final destination. Though the bus was warm enough, I still remained bundled up in bought jackets and hats and scarves; thanks to the wintery weather and the upcoming Christmas season, I was able to get away with it.

However, while Rome was lovely, Volterra was not. While the buildings and citizens were charming enough, and the touches of history enchanting as the rest of the lands, the castle and scent of blood-drinking vampires was enough to set my instincts on edge. It carried the stench of human blood and fear and power, and I felt my venom start to flow

I rented a small room in a the Nationale hotel, a hotel fifty meters from the Piazza dei Priori, where the underground routes leading to the Volturi's secret rooms were rumored to be within a moment's distance.

Loud sounds of over-eager guests and fluent Italian rushed at me from the dining room, where a reception was taking place. Through the door, masses of fair and olive-skinned citizens paraded past, the party spilling into the parking lot. When I passed the crowd to retrieve my meager belongings, I felt eyes on the back of my neck, and footsteps tip-tapping after me. Ignoring the idiot who had decided to trail after me like some lost puppy, I hurried to my room. Unfortunately, as my current string of luck had predicted, my room was on the other side of the hotel; the woman --- for her thoughts, although haphazard, were clear.

She followed me. I ignored her, at least until she slipped on the floor. I sighed before turning around.

A brilliant red-headed woman with petite features and a slim build lay on the floor, a sweet-smelling flush covering her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, darkening the freckles that lay there. Her green apple gown had a strikingly plunging neckline, styled much like a Marilyn dress, oddly American. An emptied wine glass was cradled in her hands like one would hold a newborn child, and her gaze was cloudy, often straying from my face to the lights or the striped fabric covering the seats of the chairs; she was also very, very drunk; I could smell the alcohol in her blood, intoxicating me simply by the taste of the fragranced air.

She stared at me for a moment, before giggling uncontrollably. "Opposto!" she laughed, throwing back her head, the top of the wine glass drooping to the floor like a heavy-headed daisy; her thoughts were garbled, a mixture of Italian and English in the purple-red haze.

I sighed and held out a hand for her to help her pull herself up. Immediately, she grasped onto it like a piranha, and I used my strength to pull her to her feet. And then the source of the problem was recognized: dainty, ribboned heels were on her feet, the thin, high heel hardly strong enough for her to stand. Oh, how I never would comprehend female stupidity!

The woman leaned close to me, eyes locked; her reflex reaction was dulled under the influence of the alcohol. "Oh, ti ringrazio cosi tanto! Mi hai salvato," she fluttered, her body a furnace against my own, full of pleasant fire and warmth. Her drowsy scent, similar to a sedative or a complex cocktail of drugs, slowed my mind, and while my thoughts and reactions were still inhumanly quick, they were dulled, lulled into relaxation by the intoxicating scent.

"È nessuno problema," I said, smiling gently at her, ensuring that my canines were hidden by curved lips; it wouldn't do to scare her.

She giggled, stumbling as I led her through the hallways, out the door, and into the crowd. When she saw her friends, who were as inappropriately drunk as she was, she called out their names, waving her hand around in circles as if she was trying to land a jet. When they failed to notice her, wrapped up in their own little worlds of wine and men, she huffed and looked up at me.

"Porta mi da loro." Her eyes were glassy; I placed my hand on her upper back to keep her steady. The citizens laughed and mingled around us; children rushed about, little girl's hair and dresses flying like a flag of gold, black, and chocolate, and cherry, pink, and plum behind them; boy's ties danced, floating over one shoulder. The cake had just been eaten, and couples with young children were gathering their coats and jackets and yawning young, who protested with the overused, "But I'm _not_ tired!" The girl's friends were swirling around on the dance floor, stumbling and babbling like fools, as all careless youth are --- to this day, they believe themselves immortal, and their actions without consequences.

I grimaced and pulled her aside. Ordering her a glass of water and bringing her some cake, I sat her down at an empty table and told her, "Mangia. Bevi."

She huffed and sighed, but picked up the fork and took a bite all the same. Gingerly opening my mind to hers, I prepared myself for the onslaught of drunken thoughts and sensations. I gripped the tabletop when I felt the room move and my vision swim for a moment, closing my eyes until the sensations disappeared.

When I had foolishly left Carlisle and Esme, I had always made an attempt, when I hunted criminals, to try and feed from sober men; drugs left a similar effect, making me more susceptible to dangers, less inhibited and sensible. With the use of my power, I had first discovered, unless I deliberately blocked the criminal's mind when they were drunk or high, that the effects were more potent, with the added bonus of momentarily experiencing the person's side-effects. It was never pleasant to be around the pubs and bars, and when the prohibition was in effect, bootleggers.

The girl was very tired, and confused. She wished she was back in New Jersey with her parents. She wished she had never agreed to the dare to drink all that wine, knowing fully well that she couldn't hold even a thimble of liquor, and a half-glass of wine was enough to make her dizzy and silly --- she had always been a silly drunk. She wished that her so-called friends would stop dancing and drinking and take her back home, because they were the only ones with the key to the shared house. She wanted to know who I was, and why I was bothering to help her when she had gotten herself into this mess; she was such a goof. She thought I was hip and cherry, a real 18 karat.

Her name was Annie, and she was 19.

She had followed her husband to his new job in Italy, only to discover he had been cheating on her. Now, she was stuck here as a stenographer, saving her money in order to return to America while simultaneously looking for an eligible husband --- she wanted to stop lying to her parents about her marriage and husband, and denying their requests to see them.

It would sure be lonely this Christmas season, she thought.

It was then, when I heard those helpless pities, that I stood, pulling her from the seat. She protested, hitting my chest with her tiny fists, shoving me away until I calmed her with whispered words.

"Calma ti Annie," I said, putting an appropriate distance between us. "andra´tutto bene. Per favore, permetti che ti aiuto a prendere una stanza dove puoi aspettare mentre i tuoi amici sono occupati.. Relax. All will be fine, I promise you."

Her eyes widened comically, mouth gaping; I held in a chuckle. This time, she spoke English in an awed and terrified whisper. "H-how do you know my name?" _Has Jay sent you to find me? Or are you my guardian angel?_

_Guardian angel_? Ha! I was the furthest thing from it! But I picked the easiest answer to calm her growing nerves. "I'll tell you later. I promise not to harm you, though, and will provide a safe room for you and your friends, if they wish." I didn't need one tonight, not really, if all was to go as expected.

That seemed to placate her. She followed me to my room, where everything lay untouched. After coaxing her into bed and slipping those ridiculous ribboned shoes off her feet, I smiled at her sleepy face, already so close to the world of dreams, and left the room.

I waited until her thoughts were still, and then suddenly colored with the fantasy world of dreams. Then, I returned to the room, reveling in her innocent, black-and-white wishes for a minute before sneaking off to the bathroom. There, I yanked sheet of toilet paper off the roll and jotted down a quick note to her. I placed the note on a cream towel, knowing that she'd need it in the morning, which lay close to the sink; a bottle of Aspirin, some food brought from the wedding and an apple charmed out of a hotel worker, and the rest of my money joined the growing pile.

Finally, I left a second note on the bedside table telling her where those things were and made a few adjustments to the room; the curtains were snuggly closed and lights were turned off.

And then I left.

I fled into the dark, the silver halve of the moon making the world seem as bright as day. Running along the streets, making patterned dashes through the city, I waited for the Volturi to wake and send someone to the surface world.

In the end, it was on my third trip around the familiar route that I caught the scent of a vampire, and it wasn't who I had thought it might be.

In the corner of a deserted alley, I spied a young girl, no more than a child, really, finish off a victim. The blood smelled sweet, like oranges and honeycomb, making my venom flow. I swallowed it back.

She froze at the soft sound, whipping around. Her eyes glowed with captured fire and hot coals, and the hood to her sable robe fell back, revealing brown sugar locks. A tickle of blood trailed from the corner of her reddened mouth; she licked it away as she stared.

Finally, she spoke. "Who are you?"

"Edward," I answered, chilled at her forced maturity. There was something so odd at seeing a child act as an adult, even with all that I had seen in my many years.

"Edward, what do you want?" Her voice was tired, bored. She wanted me to disappear and leave her be.

"I wish to see Aro. I have something to ask of him, something I can't ask Carlisle."

Her thoughts caught on the name, and once more became a statue. Then, the small girl cocked her head, a slow, eerie grin cutting across her angelic face. Inside, I wondered at her disturbed manner and dark heart, for the shadows were especially taken with her. "Very well," she said in a voice too mature and cold for her childish appearance, "I'll alert Aro of your presence."

**XXX**

At first glance, I was surprised by the brittle features of the Volturi leader. In Tanya and Carlisle's memories, he had been frail yet strong, but it was different seeing the man in real life. He positively exuded an aura of power and control

His eyes flashed as he saw me, much like Jane's had, with curiosity and wonder. He wanted another plaything, and hoped that I might be here to serve under him of my own free will; he wanted me to have a special power and let him wield it to his advantage. He wanted absolute and complete dominance.

"Dear one," he called out to the girl, arms open wide, "what have you brought me?"

The young girl --- _Jane_--- did not rush into his arms or immediately answer, as one her age normally would, but instead slowly walked to the older man, placing her palm flat against his. Aro closed his eyes and focused; I caught sight of quick flashes, and then heard the sentence that had caught Jane's attention. _Carlisle._

When it was done, Aro pulled away, thanking Jane with a kiss on her head. And then he turned to me. _Well, what do we have here?_

I didn't immediately reveal my power, as Tanya had instructed me, and waited for him to speak out loud.

He took his time, asking Jane if she had drank enough, and when the answer was affirmative, sent her into the corner where she was blanketed in gloom. At long last, he turned to me and spoke.

"Edward, it's certainly a surprise to see one of Carlisle's coven here. Does he warn you of us?"

It was easy to see what he wanted to hear. I complied. "Yes."

"Good." His lips turned up at the corners in a ghost of a smile. He walked forward a few steps. "I hear you require my aid." _How shocking! What could this boy have done that he couldn't tell Carlisle? Did he feed from a human, or decide to leave the coven?_

I ignored the comments. "Yes, I do. It's of a rather ... personal nature."

Aro's smile grew by another tooth. He reminded me of the scaly serpent who tempted Adam and Eve out of Eden. "Oh, is it?" _Perfect! _"Well, I can assure your privacy by using my power. I can see your thoughts through touch ---" he held out a single hand "--- and only you and I would know the truth."

I could tell that he was hiding something, but I wasn't overly concerned. No, my main priority was ensuring that very few knew of my traitorous emotions and actions. So I accepted.

He walked forward another step, and I reached out a hand to his; I was submerged in his thoughts, and I waited for it to begin.

Aro held tight onto my hand, the odd sensation of brittle shale against my palm, as my memories --- both human and vampire --- poured into his mind. My power opened, and I saw myself through his eyes. It was all so fast, like Alice's visions --- I was only able to make out certain scenes; the human memories were blanketed in shadows, vague and unsure, but I easily recognized the vampire ones; every memory was like a quick snapshot, sometimes playing for a shot period when Aro dwelled on it. Those would play like a video, a look into my previous life as Edward Anthony Masen.

Images of a Titanic-era gowns and Edwardian-style dresses in a crisp green, bright blue, chocolate, and a pale, rosy pink; and a plum-colored fabric smelling of honeysuckle and cherries reminded me of my mother; stern features of my father echoed inside my mind, the same creased forehead and strong jaw I had inherited lasting from my birth to his eventual death. Rarely was the expression broken by laughter or a brilliant smile. Quick thoughts of love and childish rage and impatience colored my thoughts as a youth; feelings of warmth and love, usually when I clung to my mother, sucking my thumb, pervaded those times.

A new baseball, smelling of leather and painted a joyful white and red, like a jolly candy cane, was present in many of the seized memories, my thoughts continuously joyous as the years passed and the baseball gained wear and began to fray. I also witnessed the first day I had a cigarette with my friends, and when I first declared I was to join the army and march to greatness --- my mother had fainted on the spot.

I managed to hang onto the vision of my parents in black --- an onyx suit and hat clothing my father, my mother wrapped in ink taffeta --- a mourning pendant suspended from my mother's neck. My father's eyes were glacier hard, mouth tight as he held back tears. The next image was more jarring, managing to elicit a shocked, pained gasp: my parents, two people among dozens on tiny cots, were dying of the influenza: cheeks flushed with fever and ragged breaths, fluid-filled coughs signaling their impending end to my learned eye.

Aro flitted through my human memories at an incomprehensible speed, but slowed when he witnessed Carlisle changing me; and then stopped, replaying the scene repeatedly, when he witnessed the first time I realized I was hearing another's thoughts. He was fascinated, and in that second, I knew he wanted me under his power, to use my spontaneous ability for himself. Like a prized collector's baseball card or a family heirloom, he wanted me to keep and use and croon over like an arrogant rooster at the first hint of light; I was his light, and he was already, in the back of his mind, as Tanya had predicted and warned me, planning to use me to his advantage.

He witnessed the changing of Esme, and the time of my rebellion, paying close attention to the details pertaining to the event. _Don't even try it_, I warned him. He chuckled, shaking his head.

_Oh, Edward, _he sighed,_ don't you miss the sweet, sweet taste of human blood? It's unnatural to go so long without it; you'll only be half-satisfied with it, my boy._

I remained firm on my stance, however, so, with a lingering sigh and a '_Perhaps I can convince him later on'_, he moved onto my memories of Rosalie, Emmett, and my time with them. He quickly grew bored of the repetitive nature of our years --- _It's all school, graduation, and days spent under the clouds; how boring! _--- and skipped through the months, focusing solely on major moments. Then, when he saw, through my thoughts and memories, Alice and Jasper, he tensed.

_That one! Oh!_ he exclaimed, but no other comment was given.

And then, he witnessed my most painful, private moments, the ones that sent my heart simultaneously soaring and filling with lead. The ones that made me hiss with shock as they were viewed, and pull my palm away from his; the ones that made my body feel boneless, and the smoldering flames deep within my chest burst into life once more. They made the shadows shiver with haunting life as they giggled, knowing I could see them.

But Aro had no mercy, even as I moaned out loud for him to stop, that it was too much, he tightened his grip and called Felix and Jane over to immobilize me. He was ruthless.

And he tore through my the accounts of my private blessings and curses, poking his way through like a rusty knife or sharp thorn through the skin of the thumb. It felt as though my blood was burning, and for the first time in decades, I felt the illusion of warmth.

He saw the first time I saw Jasper, and our reactions, and he didn't care. He pulled my memories of our sweet stolen moments, and paid them no head. He witnessed the first time we held hands, and hugged, questioning our future relationship, and he knew how I truly felt: how I desired it, but was terrified, and would never split a couple like Alice and Jasper apart, no matter how much it hurt me. And, of course, he saw the excruciating moment we kissed, mashing teeth and lips in a fierce spell of desire and need and lust.

And it hurt. I felt the venom sting my eyes, but no tears came, and they never would. I knew what would come next, and I dreaded it.

I saw how I had harmed poor Jasper, through words and actions; I saw, for the second time, his eyes lose their inner light and the way his shoulders curved inward as each cutting word struck like a blow, and he was just trying to protect his vulnerable heart. He was lovely, truly, Ah, it made my frame wrack with silvery sobs, light and dry mourning tears.

I had lost something I would never have again, and so, like the deceased and loved long gone, I cried bitter laments; I bemoaned, and wailed as his hand clutched mine, forming an unbreakable bridge between our minds and dead hearts.

But Aro pushed onward. I closed my eyes, and my mind, as I hid from my final moments with my family. When he let go of my pale hand, I jerked it away, crossing my arms over my chest.

Minutes later, when I had recovered, and my icy exterior was in place, he spoke. I did not know whether he had managed to complete the scores of memories left, so I didn't speak.

It was silent. Outside, the star twinkled under the night sky as the sun began to fight for the birth of a new day. A group of men paced the streets, laughing as they, exhausted, returned for work. Their boisterous , light-hearted bickering caught my attention, and I suddenly found myself safe within their minds; I rested there, secure, until they turned a street corner and their inner voices faded, leaving me with their voiced thoughts.

Aro was the first to speak. He appraised me, and saw that I stood tall and firm. My mouth was a hard slash. Lazily, he drew his words out like one would exhale swirls and blooms of smoke, of a child would breathe out their words into the winter air. He brushed invisible lint off his shirt, keeping his face down, but garnet eyes intense as they watched for any sign of weakness.

"Are you so terrified of having a male lover, Edward?"

My mouth twisted in a grimace as I hid my emotions behind a crystal facade. "I have had no men as lovers, nor do I plan to. I only see them as friends."

Aro chuckled, shaking his head. _Oh, you silly, silly child_! "Don't lie to me, my boy," he playfully scolded. "I've seen your most private thoughts, even the ones obscured to you by your stubborn dissent; I know of love, lust, and unadulterated desire. Now, what scares you so?"

It was like playing cards with a hunter in sheep's clothes. Like the rest of the Volturi, Aro was unpredictably feral at times; a certain sinister gleam in his clouded eyes was the only indication of his changed mind-set, for his constantly cheery manner was nothing more than a disguise to a trusting visitor --- his unsuspecting prey. He had lured many under his control with this tactic.

I looked to my sides at the flanking vampires.

"Would it be possible to talk in a less … populated area?" He knew I was uncomfortable discussing this in public.

"Oh, but of course." He swept across the floor as though he was gliding, graceful to even my kind. All of these ancients were.

Aro clapped his hands twice, nodding to the guards. "Ah, Felix. Would you please escort your sentinels to another room?" He meant to have them listen outside the room. "Alec, Jane, please remain with me, in case your services are required; Caius, Marcus? Will you remain as well?"

Both nodded: Marcus numbly, trapped in the warp of past memories of his own lover; Caius in vague annoyance. He hated being ordered by Aro, and had long grown weary of his joyous exterior.

Aro turned back to me, eyes innocent. "Would that suffice, Edward?"

Ha! As if I had a choice!

Courteously, I smiled. "Yes. Thank you so much for your consideration." He liked flattery; I set to lay it on thick.

"I do my best."

"But of course. You are a most kind and gracious host." I bowed low.

Aro smirked. "I am aware of that." He moved to sit in his seat, a picture of ease, as his aged friends settled beside him. Caius snorted.

"Enough with all this silly talk! Let us reach the heart of the matter rather than dance around it like bumbling dunces who sing your praises!"

Aro's eyes narrowed in a momentary lapse of his carefully crafted façade before widening. "But of course, Caius. Please, forgive me."

Christ, they were worse than politicians or teenage girls.

The leader of the Volturi smiled at me. "Well, now, shall we return to the subject at hand?"

I nodded. "Please."

"So, let me restate my curiosities: why are you so concerned about taking a man as a lover if you care for him, if not love him? Instead of cursing yourself for your romantic and sexual desires, why not simply follow them? You'll receive much more pleasure listening to them than droning on and on about sin and damnation." He waved his hand in the air dismissively, rolling his eyes. _I should know, Edward. There's no harm in taking from both sexes._

My eyebrows shot up. _That _had been what I had waited for: _knowledge_. I paused, choosing the possible ways of broaching the forbidden topic

"Aro, would you mind my asking of a question?"

He tapped his fingers against the armrest of the carved throne. "Perhaps … it would depend on your question, though, and it will cost you."

"What would the cost be?" But I already knew before he had even thought of the answer, seeing it in his head, how when his smiles and generosity failed, he would blackmail promising vampires into joining his army and coven; I knew before I spoke, but said it all the same.

Aro's teeth glistened in the lighting as he smiled toothily, exposing his venom-coated fangs. "Service … of a certain period I won't disclose."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you'll lose a fountain worth of knowledge, my boy; enough to fill all of the books in the United State's Congressional Library and still more. Thousands of years worth of knowledge, child, and it could all be yours if you accept, for a tiny payment, of course."

"Of course." It was all so tempting! Ah, the answers I had sought after, so close --- close enough to touch, to taste!

"In the end, though, I really am giving you quite the deal. Could you ask Carlisle for this information? No; he'd be disgusted in his dearest son. None of your other coven members are old enough to know what I know, to have experienced what I have." _Even your precious Jasper, if I remember correctly, would not know, although he might have come across someone in his many years. He is older than you, after all._

I gaped. "You know his age?"

"Possibly." _All part of the deal, Edward. Anything and everything I can offer you: yours._

As a human, I was told by Carlisle, I was never very good at resisting a worthy trade or temptations. At my brief funeral he had visited, a quick event in the chaos, a family friend had once said how, at the age of three, I had offered him a deal: if I could count all the change in his pocket correctly, his coins would be mine. If not, I would work the money off for him, doing whatever he pleased. He had smiled at me, condescendingly, and reached in his pocket to produce a handful of change, which I correctly named and dropped into my own bag with a clang. Apparently, I had made quite the killing that day.

As a vampire, I only resisted what I had to: human blood, unnecessary demonstrations of my powers, helping the family when needed; and I even failed there! For some time, I had succumbed to the sweet fill of criminal blood. Although usually tainted with drugs or other illicit substances, it was the best meal I had experienced since my rebirth. Sometimes during the early days of my return, I grew bored of the high school act and answered people's thoughts rather than spoken words to make things interesting, or practically exposed my family through careless acts. In the end, I was a gambling, happy-go-lucky teenage boy who wanted time alone more than with family. I only wanted what I wanted rather than what was best, for me and others.

I was still like that --- greedy, wanting, careless --- and my vices would continue to haunt me until one act or another was too much and I was torn apart and burned. Fifty years from now, I would be the same, I was certain; vampires don't change, after all.

It was with this in mind that I asked one last question: "If I agree, how long will I be of service?"

"Not too long," was Aro's gleeful answer, sure that he had me now. And he did.

"Would that mean a few months? A year? Ten years? An estimate would help me to decide my course of action, Aro." I fought to keep my voice peaceful and soft; it wouldn't do to reveal my temperamental nature in front of the leader and make a fool out of myself.

He frowned and looked to his fellow rulers. Marcus, as always, was absorbed in another time, another life, and shrugged at Aro. Caius was more demanding and wanted my power under his command, but not half as much as his ruling brother did.

Aro was calculating the possibility of my stay if he asked me for ten years of service, and then adding on years for silly things and making threats to keep me under his control. I laughed, unwise as it was, surrounded by powerful vampire royalty that could easily kill me within moments without my knowledge; I felt as though I was a human!

"Ten years, Aro? If I wished to devote so much time as a guard, I might as well sign on, for you and I both know you'll simply continue adding on years until you tire of me or Carlisle comes to rescue me. I might consider staying for five years at a maximum, but even that would be far too long; two or three would be preferable and a fair trade, I feel.

"It's not as though I don't value your vast understanding, Aro, please, recognize that. However, I do wish to return to my family after some time."

Aro laughed. "Do you?" _Then why did you tell your coven you wished to never see them again, boy?_

I hissed. I hated being called a boy. _He_ had called me that. "Yes, I do ... eventually." He laughed lightly, the sound tinkling and resounding, like silver and cool, fresh ice water, as he read my hesitation.

"When?" He closed his eyes lazily, like a sleepy cat after it had caught and eaten many, many mice and canaries, and had just enjoyed another delicacy. His chalky fingers beat a steady rhythm against the throne --- _duh-dum, duh-dum, duh-dum_. It reminded me of a heartbeat.

I tried to keep my growing anger in check and took a deep breath before answering; my fingernails pressed tiny crescents into my skin which instantly disappeared when I opened my bunched hands. "Perhaps once Jasper has grown accustomed to the scent of human blood; ten or fifteen years by my mark. However, I would also like to see some of the world in that time to reconcile what I feel with what I know." As well as to search for my mate to rid the ridiculous _folly_ that consumed my being; even now, it haunted me, leaving me half-alive.

Oh, how I loathed the choking, consuming emotion with every fiber of my body!

Aro liked my gall, grinning widely. "Is that so?"

"Yes, it is."

Caius chose then to interrupt; his beady eyed stare bore down on me, and I knew from his mind I wasn't going to like what was to come. "It seems that I should have a say in this as well, seeing as I could use his talents and offer my own experiences as well. While I was not part of Aro's … experiments ---" he spat out the word like poison. The vampire in question smirked, blowing a loud raspberry. "--- I believe I've heard enough and seen enough to help you in any way I can, for extra service to me _personally_." The word crept out of his thin lips like a night-born parasite.

The corners of my mouth curled downward. I didn't want to serve Caius for a single minute or end up spending years in this castle. Suddenly everything was becoming more and more tangled' the rulers squabbled like feisty children as I quietly pondered the idea --- and then instantly cast it aside. There would be no possible way I would ever serve under Caius; I trusted him far less than either conniving Aro or complacent Marcus.

Aro turned his strange eyes to me, face at peace but mind in turmoil. He knew that Caius had now effectively ruined all his carefully layered plans for me. He could imagine all the more power he would hold with me under his wing: he would have me search minds of those possibly guilty and kill them; locate any beginnings of betrayal and report it before it surfaced; help to control every one of his subjects with perfect precision; pick out freshest, healthiest blood from his visitors and occasionally subjects; be the perfect guard, always sensing any threats from a distance. His skin was prickling in delight, and I slipped out of his sickly twisted mind, for everything in the world to him was absolute power. It was his one goal and desire, and he would do anything to reach it.

"Now, Caius, I believe that Edward should be allowed to choose between the two of us." Aro stared down at my face, void of all emotion.

The fellow ruler huffed and crossed his arms in anger, looking away like a annoyed child. It was pitiful, really; after millennium by Aro's side, he could only derive pleasure from arguing and complaining about all the eldest did. However, it wasn't half as twisted as Aro's games.

He just wanted me all to himself, once again claiming more power than his brother rulers.

"Edward, would you agree with service in exchange of answers to your heart's questions?"

What could I say, trapped in a corner as I was? If I refused them, I risked death or torture; if I accepted, I was stuck under an unnamed number of years, or possibly even _decades_, of service. "I would."

Aro chuckled. "Wonderful! So, who would you prefer to work under?"

Caius simply wanted me so that he could have me, but his information was weak. Having never been in my position, he had no idea what I was feeling and what could be done about it --- to eliminate the foreign emotions. It seemed that in his youth as a vampire, Aro had fallen for a young Athenian boy while traveling along Grecian city-state borders. The lad was human, and strangely boy-like in appearance and beautiful, but his strength and power were promising, as Aro was planning then to chase the Romanian Coven out of Italy. And the boy was turned, and Aro's feelings changed.

But that was all that Aro --- a sneaky smile on his lips --- would divulge before I approved of his terms. Sly bastard.

It was a painful no-brainer that I was sure to regret. "Aro, I would rather be part of your guard. However, I would like to negotiate the time frame of our contract."

Caius harrumphed and turned away. _You don't know what you're missing, boy_.

Actually, I did.

I knew Aro would figure out a way to keep me under his control for more time than previously agreed upon, and I needed to find a way to keep out agreement sound. Perhaps a written contact would work?

He set the bar high. "Ten to fifteen years, at a minimum."

"But," I argued, "You will simply find a way to keep me here for a few more years after those, trapping me in words and unspoken agreements. I say one year, taking into consideration the time frame."

"Ten years, at a minimum."

"Five years," I insisted.

Aro's eyes narrowed. He rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand as he spoke. "Do you not value my vast experience and knowledge, boy? It's costly to know the past from a participant; you could always gather knowledge from the books that line our library, but what do they know of love and friendship? They are simply written words that lack feeling. I'm offering you a look into my mind, thoughts, and emotions and you are _negotiating_ the worth of it?"

It was all could have wanted, and more.

Marcus chose then to speak his mind and ease the growing tension. Breaking loose from the hazy cloud of memories of his lost mate, he said softly, "Perhaps an exchange would be in order, instead of a set period of service. Might I suggest a year for every time you meet and discuss his curiosities?"

Aro paused, holding out his fragile, onion-paper hand to hear Marcus's reasoning, and then he read his companion's thoughts too fast for me to fully hear. I didn't mind though; I had already known that Marcus hated the bitter enslavement and would speak his word: a time set that would appease both the power-hungry leader and his ill-mannered companion, and a chance for me to learn the answers I had been seeking.

It would do, for the time being, of course.

The Volturi leader, cocking his head to one side, and then snapped to attention. His voice was sickly sweet, oozing honey and vanilla. "Edward, that does sound a bit ... one-sided." His lips curved when he saw the lightning flash white-hot in my eyes. "Instead, I propose a year of service for every question you ask."

The shadow shivered and throbbed as I angrily raged internally. They throbbed with a non-existent pulse, growing and shrinking like invisible breath; the ones decorating Aro's clothes slithered over both skin and cloth like a black cloak.

Ha! Never mind how he never directly stated whether or not he'd give me an appropriate response, or even answer! Oh, yes, that indeed is so much _better_ for the both of us! Who knows how long I would remain trapped under his gleaming claws, doing his bidding; who even knows if he'd allow me to stay with my current diet, or if he would attempt to change that as well?

For a moment --- just a single second, if that --- I fancied the idea of returning to my home. I would apologize, even beg and plead if I had to, until I was accepted back into the family. I would go back to Alaska and kneel on the icy slopes and powdery snow and shout my remorse to the Heavens!

I would, if I was accepted back, be good to Esme and Carlisle, and be kind to Rosalie; I would play games with Emmett, and allow Alice to be with Jasper for the rest of eternity --- I wouldn't disturb them. I would forget any silly quests for information, and look for my mate in my spare time.

And I would make due, and we all would be happy.

However ... I didn't know where else I could go for the rare information I sought, and I would _never_ return home without it, this much I was certain of. And using the solution Aro proposed, I could limit the number of years I stayed in Italy; if Aro didn't answer me, I wouldn't stay. It was as simple as that.

So I made my forced choice, because I really had no other option and my pig-headed nature (as Rosalie would call it) prevented me from leaving and asking for help.

Clearing my throat --- a distinctly human reaction that left some with fair wrinkles on their perfectly pale noses --- I hesitated only once before answering. "That sounds reasonable, as long as the conditions aren't changed and a formal agreement can be reached and signed."

I would not be trapped here, ever. I would find a way to escape with my life and mind intact, and I knew I could.

Aro pouted, eyes harder than rhenium diboride. _Un bastardo! I should have tried to wring more years out of him if he was that_ _desperate! Perhaps I could drag him into a formal contract of sorts ..._ Then, his thoughts faded away to other, more pleasant things. A thin-lipped smile --- hardly more than a twitch of his lips --- was sent in my direction. _Hmm ... or maybe I could persuade him to stay in other ways ..._

Decided on a plan of action, his jovial manner returned. He smiled lightly, the virtue of patience plain on his face as he awaited my response; he resembled a kindly grandfather, a disturbing opposite to his true self.

Pleased, his grin widened, teeth gleaming brightly. "Very well. Jane, Marcus? Would you mind escorting our newest member to his room?"

Marcus sighed, but rose to take me away from the royals; Jane's pretty little smile morphed into a hunter's delighted grin.

Hiding my scowl with a bow, I thanked them, using too much flattery and gratitude for my tastes; but you could never be too careful, especially when dealing with vicious, deceptive vampire royalty. By the time I lifted my face, my expression was blank.

Caius snorted, but Aro's eyes stayed narrow, calculating.

I would have to keep an eye on him.

**x**

**x**

**x**

Abercrombie (n): know-it-all

Evil (v): in a bad mood

Mad as a Hatter (adj): to go crazy; to become insane

Oh, ti ringrazio cosi tanto. Mi hai salvato: Oh, thank you so much! You saved me!

rhenium diboride (n): a metal hard enough to scratch a diamond, first created in April 2007

Porta mi da loro: Take me to them.

Mangia. Bevi: eat. drink.

Hip (adj): cool

Cherry (adj): attractive

18 karat (adj): pure gold

Calma ti Annie, andra´tutto bene. Per favore, permetti che ti aiuto a prendere una stanza dove puoi aspettare mentre i tuoi amici sono occupati.: Relax, Annie. All will be fine; please, allow me to help you get a room to wait in while your friends are preoccupied.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**What's this? An update? *gasp* Super duper late, I know ... hopefully they'll be sooner again soon, though!**

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Edward

_Sunday, December 13, 1953_

"So, are you planning on explaining why you felt the need to travel half-way across the world, into the clutches of the most powerful vampire coven?" Aro's cloak billowed out behind him like a silky black sail as he paced the length of the room, gathering volumes and brittle scrolls from all areas of the space and depositing them on the great, cocobolo-stained table. He reminded me of a great ebony bird spreading its wings, a hunter, a predator.

He wouldn't let me escape without an answer, and a true one at that. My inadequate lying skills were put aside as I grudgingly told him the truth; I knew he would force it out of me, painfully, if I refused his questioning. My eyes traced paths along the whirls and grains of the table, cut from a tree. So far, I had counted 3, 469 rings and was nearly to the edges of the bark, which had been sealed and protected against age.

"I … I had some troubles and ... hoped to seek out advice."

"Ah! Concerning your lover?" In a flash, he was seated beside me, books piled on the ancient tabletop. His quick hands began sorting through the hundred, discarding some, placing others in piles according to importance and value of my current situation.

A low growl escaped my lips and I wordlessly threatened him --- he should never again use that word with me! "No. Information involving my_ friend_ and his mate."

"Oh, I see." His eyes twinkled in amusement, like a grandfather to a stubbornly wrong grandchild; a grandfather who killed and slaughtered, all for the sake of power. _Denial never helped anyone, now did it, Edward?_

I bit the inside of my mouth, cutting the rash comments short. Insulting the leader of vampire royalty would do no good, even if I had secured an oath of protection.

Aro laughed manically, his odd voice echoing in the empty room. "My, your restraint! He must be your lover, correct?" His hands froze on a book,

"No, he's not. He already has a mate: Alice." I ignored the pain that flared up within me at her name; my shoulders curled inward at the sparks of the flame like withering parchment.

No. I wouldn't let it overtake me, not now. I ... I couldn't.

His finger tapped against the old book in his hands. Its pages, curled and golden, smelling of mold and long ages --- of food and wine and celebrations of civilizations past --- were held together by a knotted strip of leather cord. Nearby, a gross of aged scrolls lay in piles, and books were stacked in shelves and along the walls, high, to the painted plafond.

Aro casually opened the book before responding. "I didn't ask if you were his mate. I asked if you were his lover."

I snorted, twisting my body away; my eyes traced patterns on the seamless, white, white ceiling. "There's a difference?" Mate _was_ equivalent to lover, right?

The book slammed shut. _Edward! Oh, hic puer est stultissimus omnium! _"Of _course _there is! Your lover's already mated, married, whatever you wish to call it, and so pursuing him would make you his lover. Unless you wish to mate with him --- which would be inadvisable, seeing as that_ always_ causes conflict --- you will, now and forever, acknowledged or not, remain his lover." _Unless … no. I doubt that._

I ignored the insult. There were more important issues at hand. "What do you mean, about the problems about lovers trying to be mates?"

Aro sighed, leaning back on his chair. It creaked, softly, against his weight. He covered his eyes with his hands as he spoke. His voice was weary with tired memories.

"Lovers want to be with the mated as mates, seeing as they lack them. They always desire to be more to the other vampire, always want more, but will never achieve it, because in the end, the mate will always belong to the vampire and the lover will be discarded. Unless Alice is the lover, and you the mate, there will never be more than lust, sex, and friendship between the two of you." _Edward, there have always been those who feel more towards others of our kind with whom they are not … bonded to, for lack of a better word._

_We, as vampires, are only truly attracted to one of our kind. It's how we are. However, once in a while there will be an odd vampire who, in the lack of a proper mate, will form an attachment with another of his or her kind with whom he or she can relate to. We can deal with the loss of a lover … eventually, but the loss of a mate …. Ah, that will drive us _mad.

I didn't --- _I couldn't bear to_ --- ask the question that burned within me, pelting my mind with possibilities like a sandstorm. I feared the answer too much. Instead, I chose the easiest response, the one that had nothing to do with me. "Did you have a lover?"

He laughed, putting the mock-book aside. A scroll replaced the vacated spot, was glanced at, and then placed in its appropriate pile. "Yes, I have had many, many lovers over time." _Men, women, whoever manages to attract my attention at the time. I confess, I'm hopelessly fascinated with new and unusual people. They're absolutely intriguing, almost like a new mystery to be solved!_

The next few moments were spent in silence. Quietly, I thought, trying to process this new information.

"Have you had a mate before?" The question slipped from between my lips unbidden. Before I could stop it, it was already out in the open.

He didn't react in any way I expected. His strange hands pulled at the edges of the old paper and it slowly unwound, the script revealed inch by inch. His lips curled at the corners in an odd half-smile, and he wholeheartedly focused on the script between his palms.

"I believe that's for me to know, and you to find out."

**XXX**

When Marcus had first heard Aro crowing to the heavens that he had managed to squeeze four years of service from me within a single meeting, the dispassionate, apathetic man gave me a single, hard look, then began walking away without another care. However, it was not his actions, but his inner thoughts that chilled me.

In an uncaring way, Marcus inwardly mused, _Hmm … Perhaps Chelsea won't be required for this one if he's stupid enough to stick his nose where it's not wanted. Poor, incompetent child._

My eyes flashed to his form, and I barked out his name, once, then twice when he refused to acknowledge me.

No, he continued to his room, where he would spend the day, staring at the wall for long hours until the sun washed the sky dark with plum and indigo dyes. Trapped in his own mind, in his memories, he simply didn't care about the outside world any longer.

"Marcus!" I called for a final time, contemplating following him and making him listen to me, but stopped; if I did such a thing, against one of the three leaders, I would be punished, that I was certain of.

The man never paused, never hesitated; his footsteps stayed even as he half-heartedly reprehended me. His sentences were laced with frigid, icy facts.

_Foolish boy_, he thought,_ you know nothing, do you? By this rate, you never will learn, and then, it will be far, far too late._

I stared after him, his black cloak sweeping like raven's wings, back turned to me, in shocked wonder, and fear --- lots, and lots of fear. Because, in the depths of my heart, I knew the truth I had been hiding from all along.

He was _right_.

**XXX**

_Thursday, December 24, 1953_

Two weeks later, we met again in the library. Some of the scrolls were placed in a basket, maybe an ounce at glance. Aro was seated in his plump cherry-red chair, engrossed in his readings. From his mind, it was about the tales of the Nile, or something like it. He held out his hand to me as I approached. I paused mid-step, unwilling to let him see my concealed pain; my still-golden eyes bore into his ruby irises. I shook my head, taking an instinctive step back.

Aro rolled his eyes. Languidly, he nodded towards the shadows, where his young companion stood. "Edward, don't make me have Jane force you to your knees. This was part of our agreement."

I bit my lip as I waited, recalling the flashes of fire that cut across my body like lashes every time I slipped up and remembered, the acid that bubbled and scorched my dead heart, coaxing it back into life simply so that it could suffer the torment of my rash actions. Every day, and occasionally during the night, it would leave me incapacitated. I had to hide away whenever I sensed an attack, felt the stings bloom within my breast, directly beneath my silver tattoo.

And how my hallucinations thrived in this Underworld, with Hades as my host! Never a day passed without the their sibilant whisperings; every word cut me to the quick as my private pain and fears were voiced, heard only by me.

Whenever I was not crippled, I was coolly numb and detached. I could think rationally, but there was no feeling in me; whenever the faint flutter of some emotion --- usually horror --- came to me, it was fleeting, and a ghost of what it once was. Like a living corpse, drained of blood, tattered soul torn from a cold body and stored in a bruising satchel, I had finally arrived at my Hell.

Aro cleared his throat, wriggling his fingers like albino worms in the rain; his eyes were stern. He was growing impatient. _Hurry up, boy. I'm a busy man, and I'm doing you a favor; don't waste my time._ The threat was veiled in sheer linens, easily heard and understood.

I inhaled deeply in a poor attempt to calm myself, steeled my mind, and approached Aro with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man walking towards a guillotine. Without pausing, I thrust my hand against his, waiting for the tingle in my palm to indicate the access of my most private thoughts, trickling into his mind, only to return tainted with his essence.

_There, that wasn't so bad, now was it, Edward?_

I raged inside, preparing for the onslaught of memories and emotions, and the poison they would contain whenever I recalled them afterwards.

Like a filthy knife, Aro wormed his way into my mind, my one true safe haven, and cut out the parts he wanted; he studied them like one would a specimen, an insect pinned to a board, with detached curiosity and speculation, for no emotion filled the still air around him.

When he was satisfied, he pulled back. I turned away, disgusted and sullied.

"Now, Edward, don't be like that. You and I both know it was necessary."

_Lies_. They settled in my heart, flooding it with gurgling, oozing poison. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, focusing on the sensation of my nails pressing hard against my marble skin.

"What do you wish to know today?"

Keeping my eyes closed, I answered in a steady voice, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Aro parroted back to me. "Why is that? I'm a fountain of information, boy, and all you have to do is ask."

No, not exactly, but close. All I had to do was ask and my existence would belong to him. Effectively, I had sold my "soul" to this man, four long, painful years.

I heard his chair slide along the tiled floors, felt the whisper of wind as he shifted closer to my side in order to further manipulate me. The plan was solid in his head, and, if I admitted it, quite a good one. He was going to offer me an answer, free of service --- as long as it wasn't too personal. He wanted to suck me into his control once more, since he hadn't yet introduced me to Chelsea. And he was going to tell the truth, and not lie. I cracked open my eyes.

He did not touch me, knowing how much I feared the caress of his mind against mine, but instead gave me just enough space for comfort. However, his body language was practiced: he leaned towards me; eyes wide, both slightly confused and open; his head was tilted to one side, as if he was trying to grasp a solution to a difficult problem. His hands were placed on his knees, mirroring my position. His guards, all but Felix, had been banished from the room.

"Edward," he began, and then paused. He started again. "Edward, I realize that you're suffering here, and I wish to help you. It's part of my duty, part of our agreement, and neither of us will get what we want unless we come to terms with the facts and discover a possible answer.

"But I don't know what to do unless you talk to me." _I can't quite read minds like you can._ He stopped, weighting his next words. "I know someone, a wonderful woman named Chelsea, and she might be able to help you with any of your problems, since, as a busy man, there will be times were I will be otherwise preoccupied.

"However, that doesn't mean I can't begin to help you. I'd like to offer a sort of peace treaty, a boon, if you will. I want to answer anything you wish, anything at all."

The air stunk of musty books as I contemplated his actions. By all means, it was a flawless performance, calculated and caring; he was a skilled manipulator, as Tanya had warned me. I didn't _want_ at all to take his peace offering, but what _could_ I do! Ever since I had left home in a fume of anger and self-hate, I had trapped myself between a rock and a hard place!

I heaved a breath, staring at the long lines of scrolls and leather-bound books. I had been unnecessarily stupid. Knowing Aro, it would be like him to keep secret records of his early days, when he had once had lovers. Moving my eyes along the hap-hazard bookcases, I asked quietly, "Tell me about your first lover? The first man you desired?"

He was silent for a moment. Then, after much time had passed, he sighed heavily and looked at me. Dust stirred, bright and dull and particles shining in the sunlight as they swirled. I watched it as I patiently waited for him to continue.

"You don't ask easy questions, do you?" His maroon eyes were gloomy and tired. Pained.

My lips curled slightly as I stared back, knowing I shared the same emotions in my eyes.

"However," he continued, "I shall answer it all the same."

He looked away, aware of the pain that had settled in my eyes. I think it made it difficult for him to talk when he was so deeply entrenched in his own memories; it made the pain he was feeling too real.

Looking up at those surrounding us, he blinked as if suddenly realizing they were there. His voice was stern as he spoke to them: "Go. Leave us, and tell all the others not to disturb us."

With a bow and swirl of black cloaks, they were gone, and we were alone. Aro rose, gesturing for me to follow. I did.

Once we were farther away, nearing the outside edges of the castle, he began to tell his tale.

_When I was first changed, _he started, _I was taught by my mentor about the tastes of the senses. He was alone at that time, and without a mate. When I left him to his own devices decades later, I felt free. Able to resist the siren call of a pounding heart, I was intimate with many, only feeding after sating my desire for the fiery warmth and fragility of humans._

I saw a seemingly younger Aro, his skin and eyes like that of a normal, blood-drinking vampire; he was almost a century old at that time. His skin was much like mine, pale, but not ashy, more of an ivory color than crystal, less like how it currently was.

_When I was trying to gather forces, allies, to gain control of Volterra and Italy, I came across a boy --- for although he was of age, he still held the sweet bloom of boyhood, never having truely seen war or death. He was innocent, and his blood was warm and fragrant._

_And he was beautiful. That too._

He showed me a memory of him: a young man with wide eyes and dimple cheeks, edges of his lips curled in a naive smile. He was a student and athlete, a son of a bright, well-known philospoher

_We met in Greece, during the games. I was looking for strong, cunning men to change. That was where I met Caius, in fact, _he added. His face was expressionless as he recounted the tale; I wondered at its end.

_He was instantly drawn to me, and I to him. We met often, and I taught him, gently coaxing him to my side. He was intrigued, and openly awed when I exposed my secret to him. And while confused, and worried, I indulged myself and changed him._

He exhaled, leading me down another corridor through a plain, nondescript door. This one had industrial cement flooring rather than plushy carpet, and white walls. The lighting was harsh, making sparks dance from our prism-like skin.

_He liked me. He seemed careless, almost, the way he regarded our ever-changing, intimate relationship. However, while he never actively pursued me, he never actively discouraged me. Once, much later, he had said that I was his mentor, which was why he respected me; his friend, which was why he enjoyed spending time with me; and his lover, which was why he couldn't stay away.* _

He drew me into another room. This once was smaller than most, and heavily pigmented. Sheer hangings were surounded with heavy silk curtains. The colors were a mixture of light and dark, alternating shades and tints of blue and green and some gray. A thick layer of dust covered the floors, which were blue tile, and furniture. The air stunk with the locked quarters, as if it hadn't been opened in centuries.

_He kissed me, one day. And ... that was when it changed, I suppose. We spent long days together, planning, reading, and strategizing, and nights together, persuading others to join our cause. He cared for the newborns, teaching them to hunt and basic fighting skills, and I, with others, worked to find those who held promise._

_When we weren't occupied, we spent time lounging, enjoying each other's company. It was pleasant, and relaxing, sometimes irritating, too._

Images of two men, hugging, lying on a couch hit me, caressing each other's faces; and I witnessed the careful love in every glance. Then, there was fighting, yelling, screaming when they disagreed; both were strong-willed, and the boy was still young, almost childish in the purity of his emotions.

Their eyes were always red, skin sometimes flushed with the hint of a fresh kill. The room was the same as the one we were currently standing in.

_He always liked this room, called it his own little hide-away. It reminded him of the ocean._

He stopped suddenly, mind vulnerably open and in crippling pain. On the outside, his facade was blank.

"Aro, if you don't mind me asking, how … far did you two go?" I'm sure that if I was human, I would have blushed and bumbled like and idiot.

He chuckled at me, shaking his head. Feigning innocent confusion, he said, "What do you mean, Edward? A little clarification would help."

I growled low and long --- threatening --- against him, to which he laughed brightly. "Dear boy," he smiled, perfectly playing the role the conniving bastard he was, "If you have a question, please, explain it. I fear my mind has slipped away over time."

I refused to say any more on that, instead changing my train of thought.

"What happened to him?"

Aro stopped suddenly. Then, he turned around. His face was a mask as he silently responded.

_He was murdered, not much later._

The remainder of the trip was silent and tense.

**XXX**

That morning, when the sun rose and made my skin dance and glisten with tiny rubies, beads of amber, and topaz, I stared out my window at the world when it first awoke. I watched the dawn break, and the great golden star rise in degrees, making shadows lengthen and then shrink. I saw the way it made the snow blush with color, and I heard children rise early, bouncing on their parent's beds and spurting out young Italian.

Christmas had arrived.

I huffed, still trying to process my thoughts, which swarmed in my head like wasps. Sighing once more, I scrubbed my face with my hands. God, I hadn't felt this way before ... Almost ... tired.

Yes. Yes, that was it. I felt exhausted.

Almost hysterical, a strangled laughter bubbled over, exiting my mouth in my shock. Such a human emotion, and while I was not physically worn, mentally ... I had nothing left.

Like a tsunami wave, everything I had done --- every choice I had made --- in the past couple of months rose up above me, drowning me. I felt suffocated, and fought for breath. My eyes stung with venom tears, never to be shed.

Already, I regretted my decisions: to give into my desires with Jasper, to be so cruel to my family, to leave them without another word. To agree to serve Aro.

But what could I do? Nothing.

Absolutely nothing; I was trapped.

I hugged my midsection in a poor attempt to sooth the growing ache of my heart. These days, it seemed to burn constantly, and my mind played tricks on me. I felt as though I was falling apart, slowly, slowly, layer by layer. Faintly, I wondered if I was mad yet, or if I had time before I lost my mind.

Shutting my eyes, lips pursed as I held tight onto those poor choices and regrets. I tried to imprint them in my mind, keeping them there like pressed flowers, fragrant with the sweet past when everything was simpler.

However, I wouldn't make any more careless, destructive mistakes, and that included returning to my family before I could sort out my confused feelings. I wouldn't risk my family, especially Jasper, in any way.

Because, truth be told, I don't think I could ever manage to forget the look of pain in Aro's eyes as he spoke of his long-dead lover.

**x**

**x**

**x**

Hic puer est stultissimus omnium: This boy is the stupidest of all!

*Influenced by Greek pederasty:  
en. wikipedia .org/wiki/Pederasty_in_ancient_Greece#Regional_characteristics

* * *

**Alright, count them: so far, in the course of two weeks, Edward has to serve ... five years! Yikes!**

**Okay, so I've gotten a few questions lately, so I figured I might as well answer them if any of you readers are curious of my reasoning or just plain confused:**

**Q. Why is Edward such an idiot?!!**

**A.**Because he is one, duh. Lol! No, I can't tell you too much, otherwise it will give away too much, but I can hint to look at NM, because that's the path I'm reminded of when I decided to send him to Italy. That Edward is the one I'm currently trying to use.

**Q. Why didn't Alice tell the family about her vision? I mean, I know she's heartbroken and all, but they could've stopped Edward, right?**

**A. **Alice knows that no matter what she does, or the rest of the family does, she can't make Edward stay or return. At the moment, he's so ashamed of himself (because of his desires, being awful to his family, running off, etc.) that he won't return unless the stakes are too high or he gets what he wants.

The only way he'll return is if Jasper asks him to, and for that to happen, he'd not only need to be able to handle blood (for the flight), but also fill the family in. Edward would hate him (well, dislike him for some good time, at least) if his *secret* was told. Remember, he grew up in a world where men were with just women, and married couples stayed married and happy (in his mind).

Alice knows and recognizes this, when she saw all possible paths for the future, so decided to go with the best route: let Edward do as he pleased and wait for him come home on his own. Stubborn fool.

**Q. What's with the title? Is there some special meaning to it?**

**A. **No, not really. Basically, I was doing some research on Google for this story, and Elvis popped up. Then I thought, 'Hm, what can I do with that?', and I got an idea for the story. Once again, I can't say exactly why, but I can reveal that a major event happens when Elvis is playing.

**Q. You haven't updated in a while. Are you abandoning this story?**

**A. **No, not at all! Right now, I'm pretty busy and have had some difficulty with this chapter. I promise to finish this story :)

**Sneak peeks for the next chapter to all who review!**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**A/n: Hello, my lovely readers! Long time no see, but I'm back :) Super duper thanks to chach2990, my new beta, for helping me out and encouraging me to get back to writing!**

Recap:

_Like a tsunami wave, everything I had done --- every choice I had made --- in the past couple of months rose up above me, drowning me. I felt suffocated, and fought for breath. My eyes stung with venom tears, never to be shed._

_Already, I regretted my decisions: to give into my desires with Jasper, to be so cruel to my family, to leave them without another word. To agree to serve Aro._

_But what could I do? Nothing._

_Absolutely nothing; I was trapped._

_I hugged my midsection in a poor attempt to sooth the growing ache of my heart. These days, it seemed to burn constantly, and my mind played tricks on me. I felt as though I was falling apart, slowly, slowly, layer by layer. Faintly, I wondered if I was mad yet, or if I had time before I lost my mind._

_Shutting my eyes, lips pursed as I held tight onto those poor choices and regrets. I tried to imprint them in my mind, keeping them there like pressed flowers, fragrant with the sweet past when everything was simpler._

_However, I wouldn't make any more careless, destructive mistakes, and that included returning to my family before I could sort out my confused feelings. I wouldn't risk my family, especially Jasper, in any way._

_Because, truth be told, I don't think I could ever manage to forget the look of pain in Aro's eyes as he spoke of his long-dead lover._

**Jasper**

_Thursday, December 3, 1953_

On the way to Alaska, everyone was ... quiet. No one spoke, and the air was thick despite the open windows; I felt as though I couldn't breathe. Beside me, Rose sighed, trying to comfort me in any and every manner.

She held me like a young child. My head was pressed against her chest and stomach, arms wrapped around her waist; her fingers carded through my hair, which had gone unruly and wild, the curls mashed against my skull on one side, coarse on the other, and high where the two sides came together. My eyes were still damp, but my face was dry.

From time to time, Emmett would turn back to look at us. I never met his gaze.

I didn't want to see the questions, the fears, that hung heavy in the air. I wanted to ignore them, live in a world where I had never met _Him_; where I was safe, comforted, and coddled by my once-upon-a-time wife. Back then, everything was so much _easier_.

My sight strayed to the thick bracelet encircling my wrist. It was like a manacle, a sign of my enslavement; I had given my heart to Edward, and he still had it. For all intents and purposes, I was bound to him as much as a slave was to his or her master.

Honestly, I didn't care. I was long past caring --- about anything, really.

Rose inhaled and exhaled deeply, as if to cleanse herself from the events of the past few days, as if all she had to do was breathe in the frigid air, laced with heady emotions and knife-sharp clarity, and be freed from her current responsibility: me.

Her hands continued to stroke my hair, back and forth, trying to tame the impossible mess. Quietly, I whispered into her lap, humming my mirthless tale against the fabric. I told it of my split heart, and how there was no good to come from loving those who will never, ever love you back; I advised it against tearing your love away from the hands of your wife in favor of a ethereal lover, and spoke of the deep agony that had crawled under my skin and wormed its way into the ventricles and atriums of my heart. How, like the little mermaid, every time I stumbled and thought of _him_, deep blades would stab at my chest.

Suddenly, I sat up. Turning away from Rosalie and Emmett's bewildered expressions, I traced patterns on the chilly leather interior. My breath made white roses in the air, and I enjoyed breathing in the vapor, feeling it settle deep in my lungs, chilling me to the core. And I felt colder than death, something that makes you freeze up inside, and your throat close up.

Something colder than heartache.

Everything was painted white, leeched of color and life. The road was bleached from years of road salt and was cracked in places, sealed together with dark tar. Snowflakes flew past us, each one subtlety different from the next. One landed on my cheek, cool, but it didn't melt.

When I had first broken away from Maria and felt the true touch of snow and ice, I took an immediate disliking to the season. As a cursed creature of immortality, I longed for the sun, for warmth, for humanity. The chill always reminded me of how empty and hollow I truly was inside.

Rosalie didn't speak, but I felt her disappointment, her mellowed anger. She always hated when I turned away from her.

Emmett was the one who finally shattered the stillness. "We're almost there. Just a few more miles."

I nodded once.

Ten minutes later, we pulled into the driveway,

It wasn't the sight of the house that stopped me, or the emotions that Tanya was currently bombarding me with --- guilt and worry. It wasn't even the way that

Snuggled under the blanket of snow, only my eyes and forehead showing, I burrowed deeper into the cold. It was comforting, and unlike the warm embrace of a mother's arms, it was unfulfilling, empty, like my chest; a hole, carved from glittering marble, was the only evidence of my heart's departure. Rejected and forgotten, how could I still have one?

_Oh my heart, my heart, where have you gone? Oh where, oh where can you be? With your bloodied flesh and loved tormentor, oh where, oh where can you be?_

My hands fisted the snow, pressing it into the shape of my hand. Around me, the snowfall felt like clouds, and with my pale skin and golden hair and eyes, I might have been an angel. I could have been like those pictures, of men in long robes and large white wings, an instrument held in their hands. I could have been, once.

But then again, I might have been loved once, too.

Too bad dreams don't come true.

XXX

_Friday, January 1, 1954_

"Jasper, please," Rose begged me. Her nails dug into my arm, leaving shallow half-moons behind as she attempted to drag me from my room like a naughty child. "_Please_. For me; for you; for her; for _him_!"

I silently shook my head in response; my hand gingerly pulled her fingers from my scarred arm. It would heal in a few moments --- if she could only manage to keep her paws to herself.

Rose huffed, a much expected response. In the time we had been here, marked for me only by the tortured sunrise and sunset of a new day, the same events had played out with little variation. By now, it was almost scripted: she would enter my room, throwing the locked door across the room, and boldly demand that I leave my chambers. When I failed to acknowledge her, Rosalie's fierce temper would burst out of her, and she would yell and scream, hurling hurtful words at me as if they were feathery-light kisses for all to share.

And I would stare at her, eyes dead as she spoke.

But eventually the fire would die down, and then she would resort to apologies and finally pleading. I would ignore their overly sweet taste, preferring her heated ire to sympathy.

Rose sighed, hands pressed against her eyes. I watched, curiously detached, as I waited for her to finally, after many long hours, give up for the day. This time, though, she changed tactics.

"Jazz," she began slowly, tugging at my hand until it flopped, cold and lifeless, into her warm hands. Her voice dropped down to the softest whisper. "Jazz, do you think they'd want it this way? Do you think that those who love you would want to know that you've become this way? You're almost dead, and I don't mean here ---" her hands pulled mine to her chest, over her heart, then shifted ever so slightly "--- but _here_. Inside of you, in your heart and mind.

"I know for a fact that they wouldn't want you to suffer like this! I only knew Alice for some time, but she never seemed the sort to want to inflict pain on others, and Edward --- well, he's a stupid looney, obviously --- but he loves you, too." Her hands inched towards my bracelet as she spoke.

At those words, I squirmed, pulling away from her. In a flash, I was on the other side of the room, crouched defensively. My teeth showed, glittering dully in the night, and I growled at her false words. Ha! As if he ever could!

"Jazzy," she cooed, eyes aching for me, pitying me; I glared, for a single moment hating her.

It was horrible to be pitied, like the bitterest herbs and poisons, thick and slimy on my skin and tongue; with my abilities, I sensed it more acutely than others. I tasted it on my coven members, especially Esme and Tanya, who were always the ones to force-feed me elk blood when I was too weak to hunt and the first to help me in any way they could. The others, they weren't as terrible. They knew nothing, and only suspected the truth; they let me deny the facts. They let me surrender to the mercy of my fantasies, where I could pretend everything was right in the world.

Rose's eyes lost their ambitious gleam, the gold mellowing and darkening. But still, she stayed.

"We're all so, so worried for you. Sometimes ... sometimes we hear you, saying things," she whispered, even quieter than before. Her voice betrayed her anxiety, unsteady, as though she was on the edge of tears.

"When you're alone, and you get caught up inside your own bubble, I can tell, Jazz. I can see it in your eyes, when I kick you out of your room ---" And I hate every moment of it, thank you very much! "--- that you're not always here, with me. You're with him."

She was right; she always was, it seemed. But she was too late.

I hid away behind my eyes, beneath the cover of my subconscious, where dreams and reality blend until one is indistinguishable from the other.

Here, I was safe, and everything was right in the world.

Detached, I watch her continue to speak, babbling, almost crying. The words melded together in a cacophony of sounds, harsh and soft, and soon, it was as if Rose was almost gone. Soon, her voice was a gentle hiss, like a garden snake's song, and I was able to ignore it.

Why wouldn't I, after all, when Edward --- _my Edward_ --- was before me, his hands reaching out to hold me close, tuck me away against his side. He smiled, golden eyes gentle, and I greeted him with a customary smile.

"Where were you? I've been waiting for you, Edward."

**Edward**

_Tuesday, January 19, 1954_

The first time I saw Chelsea, I was meeting with Aro as he covered my duties.

The first thing that struck me was her youth; the second, her soft thoughts. Like the hum of a far-off creature, I had to completely concentrate on those tiny whisperings to get the smallest glimpse into the inner workings of her mind.

She was lovely, with bright eyes and plump lips, seeming innocent of her crimes, for, logically, I knew she had killed others in the past. Mysterious, too, with her strangely brilliant eyes. I stared into them, attempting to discover why she was so captivating.

Then, a warmth suffused me, drawing me towards her. Then, it spread, before becoming heavy, like iron chains. Gasping, I stared at her. My hand clutched my heart, suddenly heavier than before.

"What did you do to me?" I whispered.

She smiled, strangely angelic with her halo of red hair and glowing eyes. _What do you think?_ "Absolutely nothing of consequence ... I must say, I am ... charmed to meet you."

Dismissing my worries, my long-instilled habits kicked in. I grasped her outstretched hand and pressed a kiss upon the back of it. "As am I."

"Well, well, quite the gentleman, aren't you?"

"I'd like to think so."

She hummed pleasantly, eyes settled on Aro. "Aro's told me all about you." _And that poor affair you had with -- what was his name? Jasper?_

I growled warningly at her, daring her to even _think_ another word; the moment she did, her life, as far as I was concerned, was over.

"Edward," Aro called out. Jolted from my thoughts, I took a deep breath, pacing back and forth, back and forth. More and more, it seemed, my temper was increasing, and I was set off by the tiniest things. One moment, I was numb, and confused ... but the next, I wanted to ... tear someone's throat out, and hear their thoughts stop. To drain them of stolen blood, and feel it ... warm against my skin.

Jesus Christ. I ran a hand through my hair, wondering when the shock of our separation had given way to rage, and uncontrollable bloodlust.

_Edward._ My gaze snapped up to meet Aro's. _Come. Control yourself, before I must have Jane restrain you once more._

Another cleansing breath, and I felt my tensed muscles begin to relax.

_Good. Now, go play somewhere like a good little boy while Chelsea and I talk._

A fierce roar escaped me. Whirling around, I met his smirking features. The next thing I knew, I was burning, burning from the inside out; it was nearly as excruciating as the change. Faintly, I heard Jane's childish giggles, and then, what seemed to be eons later, Aro's voice.

"Jane, darling, that's enough."

And then, it stopped. The sudden contrast between agony and placidity sent my mind spinning, as if I were a child who had spun in endless circles. I cracked an eye open, pushing myself to my feet. The room shifted, echoes of the illusionary pain shocking my system.

_Now, are you better? Or do you require more … disciplinary actions to remind you of your position?_

_You are here through my good graces, Edward. I could have thrown you out, or even killed you, the moment you stepped onto my land; but instead, I graciously took you under my wing and instructed you, teaching you about your emotions, and sharing some of my very, _very_ personal history. And I trusted you to keep your mouth shut._

_I could have told Carlisle about your desires or your location --- although I am sure that through that new female he has long known of your position. Yet instead I kept my own lips sealed, and for all my sacrifices, this is how you repay me?_

"I … I apologize, Aro." What else can you do when you're under the power of a maniac individual, one who is more than willing to lord his power over you?

Submit. Submit, and endure.

And I would endure.

_Good. I will overlook this … disobedience, but do not expect such compassion from me again. Now, if you would please excuse Chelsea and I, for we have much to discuss._ My face flashed once in his mind. Perfect; my "disobedience" was the main topic, to be followed with a light desert of my abandonment of my family and what it could mean for his coven.

Inside the comforts of my mind, I groaned. Jane's mind extended sharp thorns towards me as she smiled gently, reminding me of her ability. They prodded at the sensitive tenor of my thoughts, and I withdrew back behind the barrier separating me and the remainder of the world --- with the exception of Jane, of course; I could never hide from her.

"You should know better than to do that," Jane taunted. A forged pout and feigned concern graced her young face.

"I should," I agreed.

Her eyes grew distant. "Yes." _I wonder when they'll finally learn to stop giving you so much leeway. You'll only receive so many second changes; and when you fall, I'll be there._

"Excellent. I always wanted to be irritated to death."

She hissed, pressing her mind hard against my weakened barriers. Flinching, I hid further inside myself. Then, she laughed cruelly, manically.

_Oh, don't you worry. Your time will come, hopefully someday soon._

XXX

_Wednesday, February 10, 1954_

"Aro," I began slowly, twisting the thick material of my cloak in my hands, "tell me more. About mates, and lovers." Saying the words made me hide my face, staring down at my lap.

He was not surprised; after all, this was the very reason I had approached him months ago. He had knowledge and experience, while I was lacking in it, as much as it pained me to admit it.

Aro sighed. _Give me your hand._

I did. It was habitual that way, and while … disgustingly intimate, having someone inside my thoughts and memories … it was more private. I always felt safer when neither of us spoke; I could live in the delusion that no one else knew of my plight, as untrue as it was.

When he had finished searching my mind, he pulled away. Then, he sighed once more, folding his hands over his open book. His crimson eyes searched mine.

_You are even fuller of questions than the last time we met!_

I looked away, embarrassed. Carlisle had said the same thing about me as a newborn.

_However,_ he continued, _I will do my best to answer all of them._

_You asked about mates and lovers once more, and seem dissatisfied with my previous answer. _I nodded, gesturing for him to continue. _Hmm … how to explain this …_

_I suppose that … it's like two humans. They can go with as many other humans as they like, but, generally they settle down and marry one who could be called their "soul mate". In our case, things are similar, but also more complicated._

_Like humans, we can have as many lovers, or "boyfriends", in this case, as we wish to. We form a sentimental attachment to them, and occasionally a deep emotional bond, but when we part ways, they bond is easily severed. We may still visit one another, but in the long run, it will not cause us damage to be separated from them, even if it's a forced parting, such as in death. They're temporary things, fleeting like the sun in the waking of the moon, or the summer season when fall strikes._

_However, we will be … destroyed if our mate is taken from us. If a short time passes, only withdrawal and temporary depression result. But if more time passes --- say three months to a year, depending on the couple --- insanity will begin to set in. We will lose the drive to survive, becoming reckless, temperamental, and hearing, seeing things._

_Boom. _The book that had been clutched in my hands was now broken, the pages fluttering in the air like the white down feathers of a pillow. "Stop," I whispered. "Just … move onto something else. Please."

His words terrified me, and the thought that _Jasper_ might be something other than just my lover sent me reeling. My breathing grew more rapid until I was hyperventilating. No, no, no. He and Alice were mates, and had been for decades. They deserved each other, were perfect together: they understood one another's fears, had secret codes and private jokes; they knew each other's experiences and downfalls and heights. They shared _the look_, for Christ's sake, the one that conveys eternal devotion and ardor.

I knew so little about him, and in the beginning, was almost … obsessed with him. I certainly didn't love him! I mean, he was an enigma, and then he was … God, he was something else. He was comforting and secure, someone who could ground me.

But that didn't make us anything but lovers. No. It couldn't … I mean … _I_ certainly wasn't suffering, and I doubted he was either.

As scared as a child facing the monsters in an open closet, I implored with my eyes to Aro. "Please."

His lips pursed. _No. You asked for this, and you must know the answers. Time will not soften their blow._

I yelled at him then, knocking my chair aside; it clattered against the tiles. I cursed, I screamed, beseeching with him without a care to the other vampires, whose curiosities were thriving. I shut them out of my mind.

He was stoic, taking my words in stride. When my mouth was dry, and my temper burned out, he folded his hands.

"If you cannot learn to cope with the precious information I am granting you, then you do not deserve to have it," he simply said.

Emotionally drained, I nodded wearily. My movements were sluggish by vampire standards, and I swayed where I stood. "I understand. I was just … plagued at that moment. I apologize." For a moment, I had only felt dread, terror, and despair; they made me weak.

"May I retire for the evening?"

"No, not yet." _Allow me to finish my response: the only way you can tell the difference between the two --- lovers and mates, that is --- is through time and experience._

_There is only one person out there who completes us, who fills the void lurking inside us. Our coven members and lovers help to do so, but when we leave them, that void is exposed. We are social creatures, after all, and seek others to be with. Now, I'm not saying that Jasper cannot be your mate, and I'm not saying he is. All I'm trying to convey is that he is one or the other, but it'll take time and experiences for you to understand the difference. If you must, take another as your lover, and then leave them. If your reactions are the same as your leaving of Jasper, then you must stop fretting and look for your mate elsewhere. If they are far, far less intense, I'd say that there is a good chance he is your mate._

"Is there any sure way to know?" I croaked out.

Aro laughed. _Besides that? Sleep with him, and if it feels right and you two… connect, I suppose …_

A flash of recalled emotion --- of rightness in the world, where you'd do anything to make that person's life better and help them; where they're the only thing that matters --- hit me. It was so wonderful, so perfect, but at the same time, so frightening.

"Oh," I gasped, leaning against his mind; I craved that completeness more than anything else in the world.

But then, it stopped. Growling lightly at him, I restrained myself from attempting to break into his mind and reclaim that wondrous, strangely familiar emotion.

Aro smirked, continuing. _As for what happens when your mate dies, you seek death itself, becoming even wilder than you could imagine. All thoughts of preservation are tossed aside; often, they bring our species to human attention and must be put down._

_Put down. _The cold phrasing sent chills through me. Put down, like an animal. How could he be so apathetic, so inhuman?

What had I committed myself to?

XXX

_Friday, March 12, 1954_

It was two months later when I saw Chelsea once more. Her eyes were light, fresh, and her cheeks were blushed with stolen life; she stank of a human's blood: of phlox, cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla. In her hands, a wine glass of the fragrant liquid swirled, still warm from the kill. Bitter venom slickened my teeth, and my muscles bunched, preparing to fight her as my vision narrowed down to the goblet's contents.

I jumped, pouncing on her. But, ah, she was prepared! Dancing out of my reach, she downed the last droplets of the finest wine, licking the vessel clean before tossing it aside. I grabbed the glass, inspecting it for any last traces of the ambrosia, only to find nothing. Crouching down, I snarled at her.

"Relax. Maybe I'll share with you next time."_ If you're a good boy._

I snarled. The only thing keeping me from attacking her was the light pressure of Jane's power against my mind. I could feel her desire for my suffering, and knew that at the slightest provocation, she would goddamn use her power against me.

Chelsea's laughter echoed, loud at first, and then softer until the only sound was my heaving breaths. As the rage faded away, waves of overwhelming guilt consumed me. I bowed my head, holding that damned cup in my hands. It still stunk with the sweetness of death, of blood. And as much as I hated it, I couldn't seem to toss it away like the garbage it was.

The silence, the guilt and horror, was staggering.

But that wasn't the last time she tempted me. Every few days, she visited me, smelling of honey and liquor, flowers and the brine of the sea; her skin was hot to the touch, begging me to draw closer.

And then, she began bringing the wine glasses of cooling blood once more. This time, though, she offered them to me.

The first time, I had nearly snatched the vessel from her filthy paws to drain it before I realized, my mind distant in the haze, that I needed to stop breathing.

So, I did. I cut off my supply of oxygen, minorly pleased that I had foiled her plot ... but positively _starving_ for just a single drop, a hint of flavor to roll around my mouth like fine wine, and then swallow, savoring the torridness of the liquid as it trickled down my throat. The thought made me weak, and I almost broke, knowing that the burning in my throat could be instantly soothed if I capitulated.

The night after that, I was well fed, but it did little to aid me in my ambitions to ward off human blood. The aroma ... the heat ... I could taste it on my tongue, and knew that if I gave in, I could have it. All I had to do was ask, or even just take it from her, and it would be mine. The animal --- the _monster_ --- inside of me threw itself against the weakening walls of my resolve, knowing that it would be only a short time before I gave in, and tasted the forbidden fruit.

It was only the thought of Carlisle that held the inner creature, made of instincts and bloodlust and power, behind titanium walls ... and then, sometimes, when I was alone, and tired, wanting to give in, I remembered Jasper. He kept me sane, when it didn't hurt as much to think of him.

After that, she returned the next day, and the day after that. It was the cruelest form of torture, for I could still sense it. It was as if I had fed off of air my entire life, and while it filled the empty hole in my body, it was insubstantial. But here, here was the very essence of life, something that would permanently fill me and grant me the cloak of life: a blush to my cheeks, a warmth lying underneath my hardened flash, eyes with a glint of color rather than the flat black they always seemed to be nowadays, no matter how often I fed.

When I heard her footsteps on the concrete, my throat was instantly seared with venom --- a trained reaction. It's psychology. If you give a dog a treat whenever a bell sounds, or he sees a certain person, he'll automatically become more hungry when the event occurs. It's an earthbound reaction. And whenever I heard her, dawdling in the halls, my hunger increased a tenfold.

I held my breath. Thank God for giving me an eternal lung capacity in turn for cursing me.

Finally, she entered, a goblet of blood in her hands. Drawing close to my side, she held it out to me. I cowered further away from her, sure that if I did not manage to escape today, I would give into the Volturi's desires.

"Come on, Edward," Chelsea coaxed, a sweet smile on her lips. "It's alright, just a small taste." _It won't hurt. And you need it. Aren't you thirsty, after starving yourself? I think I even see a sharpness to your cheeks, you poor thing!_

The proffered goblet was warm, so, so warm and sweet-scented. My mouth watered, my body reacting even as my mind rebelled. Locked in an internal battle of wills, I stayed rooted to the seat; my hands clawed at the wood and fabric.

"No," I whispered, eyes fixed on the vessel of crimson liquid. "No. I can't."

I tried to imagine it as the blood of a child or a babe, the innocent's life flowing from a jagged wound in the neck, staining the tiled floor. The eyes, wild with terror, and the perceptible change of the fluttering in the darling's heart as she died; slowly it beat, slower, and then stopping. The thoughts, quiet as they floated away into the abyss. The warmth of the body, of the blood, before it started to cool.

My efforts, much to my dismay, served to do nothing more than increase my hunger; sour venom pooled in my mouth. I swallowed it, wincing as it burned. Forcing my heavy eyes away, I dragged them to Chelsea's face, then away, up over the gothic arches of the ceiling; but they were always drawn back to the source of the warmth, the heavenly aroma that lit on my tongue when I dared to open my mouth.

"I can't." My eyes locked with hers, begging, pleading.

She laughed then, and the sound was golden and honeyed. Her eyes seemed to glow, capturing me in their depths; her lips were full, and cheeks flushed. A sip more of that intoxicating wine, and she moaned as she savored it in her mouth. A bead of the blood escaped, and she licked it away.

I groaned as I fought the baser urges, even as I knew that today, I would give in.

Chelsea looked up, locking eyes with me. Hers glittered red, engulfing my senses. The glass was offered once more.

_Take it._

This time, I couldn't refuse.

I surrendered.

The taste was sweet and full and spicy on my tongue; and I realized, in the small, conscious part of my mind, that the metal was molten under my fingertips, crushing as I eagerly drank every last drop. But, oh, how I couldn't stop! Primal instincts brought forth by such a simple, common, _exquisite_ thing, I threw the worthless gold aside, jumping upon the cooling body of the man. My teeth tore through the muscles in his throat, creating a bloody mess of tissues; I heard resounding '_crack'_s as his bones crunched under my strength.

And I drank deeply --- more, and more, until there was not a drop left. Only when Chelsea pulled me away from the husk of a man did I return to my senses.

And for what did I ask?

Well, I straightened, feeling the warmth blossom inside me, staining my cheeks and eyes crimson, and said quite plainly: "More."

XXX

_Sunday, March 15, 1954_

I frowned, glowering at the man before me. His eyes were brilliant with death and blood and sin and rust; they held the glaze of a steadily increasing madness --- so, _so_ similar to Marcus's. Face flushed as if he was alive, his sharp teeth, pulled back in a growl, were gleaming ivory. A heavy black cloak hid his figure, the hood pulled up.

I hated him.

Next to him, Aro stood, beaming. In his papery hands, a silver pin of high esteem and status was held ready; then, it was pinned onto the other man's right breast. It glistened bright, like starlight, the designs old, the metal new.

A crowned dragon, rearing, was encircled with various runes for change, power, eternal control, justice, and mortality. A staff was held in its claws; two outstretched hands bordered it, reaching skyward.

"Ah, Edward," Aro breathed, "It suits you." _I knew that the moment I saw you, didn't I?_

I did not respond.

"Are you not pleased? I have accepted you into my highest ranks, where you will serve me, much like Felix or Demetri."

Biting back my first response to inform him that he has given me no honor, but bestowed another weight on my shoulders, so that I sympathized with Atlas, I smiled weakly. It was an art form, a method of survival: submit and you will endure.

"Yes, I am. But it is ... overwhelming. I never expected such an honor." I kept my voice soft to hide the rage.

Aro chuckled. "My boy, you deserve it. After all, you _are_ one of us now."

"Am I?"

"Yes. Yes, I do believe you are." _And now that I have you, you're never getting away._

**x**

**x**

**x**

Earthbound (adj): reliable

Looney (n): a foolish or insane person

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**For some info, Chelsea can influence people's relationships, breaking and adding them where she pleases. And I can't wait to see New Moon--- ahh! **

**Reviews = love :)**


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N 1: And so, we're back! Much love to my beta, chach2990, who makes my jumblings make sense lol! So, here we go ...**

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_Recap: "Ah, Edward," Aro breathed, "It suits you."_ I knew that the moment I saw you, didn't I?

_I did not respond._

_"Are you not pleased? I have accepted you into my highest ranks, where you will serve me, much like Felix or Demetri."_

_Biting back my first response to inform him that he has given me no honor, but bestowed another weight on my shoulders, so that I sympathized with Atlas, I smiled weakly. It was an art form, a method of survival: submit and you will endure._

_"Yes, I am. But it is ... overwhelming. I never expected such an honor." I kept my voice soft to hide the rage._

_Aro chuckled. "My boy, you deserve it. After all, you are one of us now."_

_"Am I?"_

_"Yes. Yes, I do believe you are."_ And now that I have you, you're never getting away.

**Edward**

_Friday, May 7, 1954_

"Edward, I will not have this! I, who took you in, feeding you with information and blood, kept your_ disgusting _secrets from your family, and yet you have, once more, been unable to fulfill your duty to the Guard, and therefore me?"

Aro gestured, and sudden pain wracked my frame yet again. I bit my lip, feeling the flesh scar and pull under the force of my withheld screams. My eyes were squeezed shut.

"Now, tell me why I should not throw you to the wolves, Edward? Give me one reason, for I guarantee you I will not stand for this much longer. Your temper has wildly increased these past months." My body involuntarily slackened as Jane's talent suddenly ceased, and the fire slid out from my veins. Gasping for breath, I forced my eyes to crack open, echoes of the spasms beating against my head; the carefully constructed barrier surrounding my mind felt loosened, weakened. As my head throbbed, I cautiously collected the torn pieces, threading them back together.

Aro sighed when I didn't immediately respond. _Why do you make me do this? Do you take pleasure in this? Do you enjoy angering me?_

Silently, I shook my head. My harsh breathing reverberated in the empty room.

_Then why, for the love of Jupiter, do you _do_ these things?_

How could I even begin to answer him? In truth, I didn't have half a clue as to why I couldn't hold my temper lately, and how the simplest things would send me into a violent fit of rage.

Like a petulant child, I answered, "I don't know." But, unlike a youth, this was the truth rather than a story to avoid punishment.

Aro folded his hands, grimacing. _Why_, he thought, _do you desire this? What brought you here in the first place, to us? _"Jane." A nod in her direction, and the flames began anew.

While painful, it could be far, far worse: Alec could have been my tormentor; if there was anything I dreaded more than Jane's awful powers, it was the inability to sense anything, to be subjected to sensory deprivation against my will. Sight, touch, hearing, taste, and smells were torn away, and whenever Alec punished me, I wondered what I would find when I woke --- _if _I woke at all. Sometimes, my senses returned and I would find myself branded with the silvery petals of teeth. Sometimes, lines and black brands scorched into my marble flesh rose up in bumps and ridges --- the symbol of the Volturi, Aro's name, my transgression, which was always the same --- remaining for weeks on end. During others occasions, joints were twisted painfully and skin was torn; my bones were snapped off and held, writhing, away from my reach.

I was always afraid with Alec. Always.

When the pain stopped once more, I was left gasping. My skin felt charred, and I sought the cool marble of the floors to ease the burning; my clothes, especially the black cloak, were abrasive.

I felt Aro dismiss Jane, breathing some message into her ear, and the dreadful tenor of her thoughts moving farther and farther away. Then, Aro stepped forward.

"Get up."

I rose, slowly.

_Now, let me tell you why you've come here. It's not just for information, you fool. It's because you can't stand the idea of caring so much for another, and it scares you. You don't want to desire something so forbidden, so incongruous. _

His red eyes bore into mine. _No, instead you want to be safe, far away from your problems, because you always run away, don't you? You ran when your mother made you feel guilty about wanting to join the army, and so instead you acquiesced to her wants and needs. You ran when you first discovered what you'd become and hid until Carlisle found you. You ran when Esme joined the family and you were tired of fighting with her and Carlisle about feeding. And now, you've run from emotions that you've never felt before, that you just don't_ understand_, correct?_

I lifted my head and glared at him, feeling my hands tremble with the effort of not choking him, not tearing into his throat like some crazed beast.

_You're just a scared little boy, aren't you?_

His hand snatched at my neck, pulling me close. _Aren't you? Admit it, Edward; the truth will set you free._

My hands snapped up from my side, pushing him away from me --- I had grown stronger from a diet of human blood. However, as soon as I had him in my grasp, I was pulled away, pinned to the floor. Felix held my body down, and this time, Alec had entered the room with Caius. They watched me coolly, almost as detached as Marcus, who was nowhere to be seen.

I thrashed against the marble manacles, screaming. "No!" I yelled. "No, no, _no_! How dare you call me that, Aro! Fuck you, you goddamn bastard! _Fuck you_!"

A smile twisted Caius's thin lips. He glanced at Aro. "I see you still haven't managed to break him."

"No, not yet; once I had believed I had succeeded, but lately …" he shrugged. "Thank you for loaning me Alec; I have the feeling that his powers are much needed at the moment."

"Anytime, Aro. Just have him back by nightfall. I do have an assignment for him to carry out, and I'd hate to postpone it for your pleasure."

Aro inclined his head. "Of course." Internally, though, he snorted. _Ha! As if you could go more than a day without seeing him safe and sound! As if I could ever get away with keeping your pet for my own power!_

My spine became ramrod straight, movements stilled and words silenced, as I heard the exchange. _Pet. _Pet.

Had Caius taken a liking to Alec? I glanced at the boy, cherub-like in his innocent beauty, and shivered.

Caius caught the motion. "By God, Aro, what have you thought? The child seems horrified!" _Oh, why couldn't you have used Jane? She's the sadistic one!_

Aro ignored Caius's question, instead favoring a request of Alec. "Blind him. Make him suffer."

And Alec stared at me, pityingly, before I was thrust into a soundless, sensationless world. I dared not move for the fear that I would run into something worse than before, maybe fire or acid that would eat away at me. If I didn't move, I could at least imagine that I was fine, safe for a moment.

**XXX**

_Wednesday, June 9, 1954_

Black cloaks twirled around me, hiding the faces of my companions. We ran, fast; the warm air made the scent of blood all the more enticing: hints of sea salt and brine, honey, roses, and sunshine, and citrus and wine floated along the summer breezes. Venom pooled in my mouth, lying bitter against my tongue. Here, in Rome, the air was sharp with population, oil and sweat and grime, tempered only by the citizen's blood.

It had been a long time since I had last done this.

Rome, like Chicago had its own brand of thieves. In this case, pickpockets lorded over muggers, and swift feet always conquered violence. In a way, it was slightly heartening, even if it made my job more difficult.

The thoughts of young and old filled my mind, and I picked through them, searching for some murderous being so that I would not feel as horrid as I knew I was. I smiled acerbically. As if that were ever possible! I was still a murderer, and always would be. But I dared to dig my grave deeper still; why not make my damnation thorough?

Then: _there. _Yes, there, over to the northeast somewhere. A man, his hands full of money stolen, purse discarded some distance away. And he was near ... Christ, where was he? A street light flashed in my mind as I tracked him. His voice was stronger, the closer I got. And then, he looked up, imagining his tiny apartment on Via di Licia.

And I stopped.

In that single glance, there was an image of a younger group consisting of both boys and girls. They huddled by the door and dirty windows, watching for him. Waiting. They were gypsy children and the abandoned; they saw him alternately as an older sibling or a father, depending on their age.

He was only fifteen, a child forced to grow up and care for his younger charges.

I knew then that I could not have him; the very thought sickened me to the core! Who _was_ I to deprive these children of their elder brother, when those younglings needed him so? The boy reminded me so much of the murderer who, long ago, I had hunted and killed before his daughter's eyes.

I wouldn't make that mistake again.

So I turned away, back to Volterra, ignoring the questioning thoughts. I wouldn't be swayed.

I managed to catch some rabbits on the way there. Their blood was ... disgusting in comparison to my sustenance of the past three months. But up until this point, I hadn't actually hunted a human, and although it was hypocritical to pride myself in that, I did so all the same. It made me feel less like a monster, that, although I had failed and allowed temptation to overwhelm me, I didn't feel the soft flesh of the neck break under my teeth, or listen to the drifting thoughts of the dying.

And they couldn't make me, I thought as I ran through the sewers, into the Volturi's haven. They couldn't; I would never, ever budge on the subject. No one could make me, not Aro, or Chelsea, or Caius ...

They were just going to have to make do with who I was and learn to accept me.

**XXX**

_Monday, June 28, 1954_

"Give me your hand," he ordered. He was impatient today, unwilling to deal with my bitter rancor and stubborn attitude.

Hesitantly, even now, nearly eight months after I had arrived, I stretched out my hand, palm down.

Sighing, Aro sat back, curving into the cushion of his throne-like chair. He massaged his temples, as if he had a headache. As if _he_ was the one forced to suffer this. _Edward, I am tired of your games. Give me your hand this_ instant_._

I did. What other choice did I have but to obey him?

_My God, Edward, _he groaned as he re-examined my memories. I focused on his voice, preferring it to the reminder of my self-inflicted desolation, my exile, which stormed through his mind, and mine, in images and sounds and sensations that I couldn't possibly ignore.

I turned my eyes away from our joined hands. Examining the tile flooring for flaws, I let the echo of his thoughts reach me.

_Edward, look at me._ I dragged my numb gaze to his. _No, look. See what I see; delve into my mind as I dip into yours._

I cringed. "No."

_Must I have Alec sent in?_

Biting my lip, I gave a sharp nod. "Yes."

I would not look back to my past, my mistakes. I was here, in the present.

My hand was thrown away, and Felix called for the torturer.

**XXX**

When I emerged from the fog, Alec was there. He watched me as I fumbled, feeling, seeing for the first time; it was strange to use such acute senses after the blackness. My mind was still extended, and I kept it that way, relishing the almost-painful rush of thoughts.

Alec was confused.

_Why do you choose this, over seeing what he wants you to view? Maybe he has a point in his wild imaginings. _He paused. _Have you ever considered that?_

I looked away from him, fiddling with my robe. I was an avoider, I knew that; but how could Aro ever have a point? He was all mania and oddities, deception, weaknesses and strengths jumbled together into one mind. There was no way he ever presented anything to me that had significance, and this ... to look into his mind ... no.

No. I couldn't bear that. It would be a new, more potent form of torture devised to bend me to his will.

_I know you can hear me. _

My eyes did not stray once. My mind was alert, focused on his thoughts.

_Edward, trust me on this, for I am not like my sister, taking pleasure in other's pain. Do what Aro wants, and you will survive. If you must, force yourself, or even pretend to comply, but don't allow your misguided pride to prevent you from a life of satisfaction. At the very least, listen to me when it comes to this issue. You're __new here, too strong and willful to fit in, and so, unless you change, you will die.__ Don't you wish to live? _

Slowly, I lifted my head. Crimson met crimson, and I stared at the young boy. He should have never been forced to enter this life: too young, too thoughtful, too caring- by the Volturi's standards. Unlike Jane, who had fully embraced her perverted power and become marginally insane through it, Alec was one who, while reveling in this sort of half-life, did not take true pleasure in watching others struggle beneath the numbing blanket of his talent. He enjoyed all the assets that came with vampirism, but had little care for the Volturi.

I liked him, misguided as he was. Like myself, he was somewhat a misfit. However, his beliefs could never be tailored to fit me.

"Why would I want to live," I asked, "if life has so little meaning?" I thought of my family as I had left them, alone and broken. "Why would I want to see another day, if there's no one to care for me, and no one for me to care for? If those who might once have loved me, would rather spit upon my ashes than look upon my face again?" They would never forgive me, I was sure of it. Hell, I would never forgive myself, if I were them. A face swam beneath the surface of my memories. I suppressed it, pushing it further and further into the darkest corner of my mind.

"Why endure when I must go against everything I believe in, if I must constantly kill innocent beings? Last week, Aro told me that I would have to help control a newborn. I might have to _kill_ it; I can't do that!"

"But you must," he interrupted. "There must be something --- someone --- to live for." _Everyone does. _He was wiser than his apparent years.

I stood, pacing for a moment. He eyed me, wondering what I was to do. I pivoted to face him. "Yes," I admitted, "once there was someone, but not now."

"Then what will you do?"

"I ... I don't know." I thought for a moment, of my entrapment, the cursed vow I had agreed to. I had been too cocky, too sure of myself. I had thought that, as all teenagers do --- for I was, forever and ever, _cursed_ a teenager --- that I was invincible, able to take on the _world _and emerge intact and unchanged. Victorious. How foolish I had been, to believe such things! Carlisle had certainly not coddled me, exposing me to the truths of the earth. My powers had enlightened me, showing me the horrors of humanity, and yet I had forgotten, after decades of a sinfully pampered lifestyle, that I was not alone in my strength, cunning, and life. I was not truly immortal!

No.

No. I was some imitation of the perfect being, my features sculpted from fire and frozen in ice, cryopreserved and saved from the ravages of time and space. I wasn't even _alive_! My heart had long stopped beating, my lungs had long lost the need for oxygen. In all senses of life, I was dead. Or, rather, undead ... But, somehow, I _could_ still die. I could, through some situation, come to perish in an inferno, sickly sweet smoke pouring from my decomposing veins, or be torn to bits.

I could, through death, escape these trials and hardships.

The only thing they could ever bring me, when completed, was a half-life without love, family, and happiness. Was that something I truly wanted, something I would to live for? I grimaced, realizing that, ever since I had been changed, my life had been sentenced to this ... this unbelievable, bleak _alienation_. Yes, yes, I had been granted a brief respite from the end, and spent some time in the comforts of a charade: Edward Cullen; teenage boy, adopted son of Carlisle and Esme Cullen, handsome, smart, perfect ... _normal_. Human.

But I had squandered my time. And now, now I was facing these trials alone; there was no God or father to save me, no sibling to aid me. I was, in all senses of the word, _alone_.

The epiphany sent icy shock waves coursing through me, and I begged Alec for his help with my eyes. He could make it numb, at least. It would hurt less then, to see all the great mistakes I had made.

The most important one, of _that_ morning, ages ago, would not leave me.

But, that damned boy would not help me! He watched me, sullen and slightly curious, his chin propped up by his palm. _Do you have an answer? _He would ask me, and when I negatively responded, he'd shake his head at me, condescending and cool.

Eventually, he sighed, and walked away without another thought, a second glance, leaving me confused. What _could_ I do? Nothing. I was bound here until my time was served, even if it took eternity. My life ---

_My life._

And then the key was revealed to me, and I knew, I just _knew_ how to escape this mess. It wouldn't be what my heart wanted, or what I craved deep inside, but it was better than the alternative: a long, dark path with nothing to live for.

I jumped off my chair, bursting through the door; I took flight, feeling as though my feet were simultaneously weighted with lead and lifted with wings. All the way to Aro's gathering room, I dashed, preparing my speech off the top of my head. It would work. It _had _to!

It ... it just did. There wasn't any other option.

Aro was in a meeting, planning on how to destroy the newborn vampire. It seemed like the newborn had just been one of many, the maker unable to control these feisty younglings. He was to be burned, along with all the others who, like me, had been wrongfully changed. When I tore the door off its hinges, all turned to stare at me. Aro was slower than the rest, but the first to react; fury colored his thoughts.

_Edward, _he cautioned, _what are you _doing_?_

My eyes bore into his, beseeching --- _pleading _--- him to listen to me. I took a deep breath. A beat passed.

And then another.

Aro was still frosted. He glowered, translucent skin wrinkling.

I let the air, cooled by my frozen tissues, escape me in a great gasp.

A third beat. _Boom. Boom. Boom. _Time seemed to slow, and then speed up, and then slow back down again. I felt woozy. My hands seemed to feel clammy.

Yet another breath, and I felt somewhat stable. My feet were firm against the floor, and I channeled all my confidence into a single moment.

And then I posed my request to him, simple and clear.

"Aro," I said, "will you help me to die?"

**Jasper**

_Monday, June 28, 1954_

When my bedroom door opened this morning, it wasn't slammed; no, it was gently closed. Another break in our routine.

Rose was quiet, her emotions, as always, were frazzled, confused, and I did my best to sort through them: apprehension, amazement, contempt, love, fear, and then a few others that were unidentifiable. They were sharp and thorny, soft as a blush, rich as a pint of human blood.

I did not move, and waited as she slunk across the room, around the bed, at an agonizingly slow pace. Then, she sat upon it, and reached for me. Like a doll, I was mute and listless as she arranged my limbs into some semblance of alertness, of worry; her hands clutched mine, willing some sort of life back into me.

I wondered if today she would beg me to join her in the hunt, for my throat burned even without the presence of a human; I had somehow, against all odds and to the amazement of my family, lost track of the hours and days. But then I remembered, some time ago, how Rosalie had instead brought me a cup of heated blood, opened my mouth, and held it to my lips as I drank, feeding me as if I were a baby bird.

But this time, the thick aroma was absent, and only cool sheets and a soft, humming voice assaulted me. Rose shifted me, hands fiddling with my dirty locks. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and then spoke.

And my world shook, fracturing into great, heavy pieces with razor edges.

"Alice is back."

* * *

**A/N 2: And so the plot thickens! Now, I know you're probably kicking me in the head right now, but trust me; I've got this :)**

**Reviews = love. Love = faster chapters!**


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**A/N: Love ya, chach2990 (my lovely beat :))**

**Jasper**

_Monday, June 28, 1954 2:16 P.M._

I stared blankly at Rose. My brain worked furiously to put the words together into some semblance of truth and fact; but no matter how I tried, they never seemed to make a clear picture.

I blinked. Opened my mouth, and then shut it; words crawled up my throat, tar-like and heavy with doubt, and I finally broke my unspoken vow of silence.

"W-what?" My voice was rough from disuse. Wincing, I cleared my throat and tried once more. "What do you mean?"

Her hands paused, and she bit her lip. Furrowing my brow, I further concentrated on my power. Yes, yes, she was apprehensive and fearful, but only of my reaction to the news; she was worried that Alice would, inadvertently, cause me emotional harm.

Hate was acidic, like bile; I shied away from the emotion, which always made me ill, even after a short exposure. It surprised me --- she didn't like Alice, and yet I had heard them both cursing _him_, ages ago!

Rose swept me into her arms, holding me close. I lay against her chest, cold and hot and sick. "Jasper," – she worried her lip while speaking, and her agitation skyrocketed while she contemplated her next sentence, making my stomach clench, filled only with venom – "Alice has brought us – the family, that is – some news that, once shared, we thought you must hear."

"Oh." That's all? Why in the devil's name did she return, then?

"There's more to it than you think; it involves … Edward."

"Oh." Despondent travail now.

"Yes. Oh."

I curled further inwards, feeling her breath beat against my the back of my neck like the scalding whisper of lost secrets, spilled along with the sour milk and vinegar. Some things were never meant to be said; hearing his name, so sacred to me, left me distant and woebegone, and I retracted my limbs as if I were a dead spider.

My voice was strange when I croaked, "Well then, send her up."

"No."

"No?"

"No." Her hands pressed firm circles against my back and I leaned into the stable comfort of her touch. "You're going to get up off this bed and walk into that bathroom, then go meet Alice looking like the handsome man you are, even if you've forgotten that."

"Rose, I can't." It just seemed too difficult a task and my reserves were already taxed. "Don't make me," I whispered.

"Oh, get up you lazy pig! I'm not going to mollycoddle you any longer, so get a spine and man up: _now_." She pushes me upright.

I sat up, blinking as the room spun. My head felt simultaneously light and heavy and pressure squeezed at my temples. I lay back against Rose. My eyes shut and I rubbed at my forehead.

Christ.

"Must I?" I beseeched her, pitying the person I've become: weak in mind, will, and body; I didn't want Alice to see me like this, even if it's only a matter of pride.

She didn't hesitate to shoot down my lingering prayers. "Yes, now stop lamenting. You're not the little mermaid or some trapped spirit, even though you're determined to mimic them and throw your life away. Now, get up; it's only tough love for you from now on, buster."

I moued, hopelessly pressing my palms against the tangled bed linens for extra leverage; my head swum, but Rosalie refused to grant me any measure of mercy. Within a minute, I'm standing, albeit I'm still leaning against her marble shoulder.

Rosalie watched as I made my way across the room. She eyed my grody locks, rumpled clothes, and dark eyes; then, she shook her head at me.

"Come on, Jasper," she coaxed. "If you're to see your wife, you ought to look nice." I frowned. How had I forgotten _that_? I tried to muster up the enthusiasm and will, but after a few moments, gave up. Shrugging, I stepped into the bathroom.

My reflection, the first sight I encountered, was terrifying; I really had let myself go. My clothes were bloodstained, torn at a shoulder and sleeve, and my hair stood up in a wild, dirty halo.

How long had I been trapped within the vice of my grief? How long had I languished and wasted away like some unfortunate who has lost everything in life?

How long had I lost myself, been a vacant shell of a man?

How long had it been?

I asked Rose, who stroked my shoulder and greasy hair while she soothed me with peaceful thoughts that I absorb through her emotions; ignoring my question, she turned on the shower and let the water heat and steam flow and billow. When the room was filled with fiery heat that made me wants to curl up for years and lie still as stone, she turned to kiss my forehead.

"Too long, Jasper," she finally said. "Far, far too long; we miss you."

Guilt was a lump within my chest and throat, so I tried to block out her rapid emotions. The door shut behind me and I crawled into the shower after a moment's pause.

The hot water, nearly boiling, made me feel like I'm trapped in an inferno, but the heat was so pleasant after such a long period of hoarfrost and chill. I wanted to longue beneath the spray, to fall into a thousand year's sleep, but Rose wouldn't let me; she knocked on the door --- well, more like beat it down.

"Jasper, get your ass down here now!"

I sighed and turned off the faucet. Wrapping myself in a white towel and pushing back my mused hair with a shaking hand, I opened the door and Rose thrust a handful of clothes into my arms.

"She's downstairs, waiting, so hurry," she informed me. I nodded silently and turned to my side, shucking my towel in favor of a button down and slacks; Rosalie has decided to dress me up for the occasion. I wanted to dawdle, but Rose lingered by the door and pulled me out and down the stairs before I could take a breath. And then, at the bottom of the stairs, was Alice.

Her eyes were watery with toxic venom and her hair had been coiled and coiffed; her dress was fashionable and clean. Visions haunted her still, leaving stressed lines between her forehead. She really hadn't changed all that much during out separation.

But I had. It left me awkward and overly aware of the differences between us. Once, before we had met this cursed family, we had been two parts of a scarred soul. But now, things were different.

"Jasper," Alice whispered. She was better off than I am; her aura was, while darkened by some vision and a separation from others, fairly salubrious. It was not her usual bright light, but nothing like mine, I was sure.

I stared at her vacantly. She extended a hand, meaning to pull me close to her; I backed away, bumping against the doorframe.

"Jasper, please …"

I shook my head and then looked at Rosalie, begging her to talk for me. Seeing Alice was just another reminder of all I'd lost. I gasped as a pang hit my heart at the thought.

No, _no_. Don't think about that. Think about _now_, not then, I coached myself. It was a mantra that was constantly sung, chanted within the shadows of my thoughts.

Rose stepped forward and I leaned against her, closing my eyes. Rage and envy assaulted me as Alice realized that Rose, who certainly was not my wife, could hold me, but she could not. I could almost hear her thoughts: _Yet another woman? What the hell, Jazz? I thought we were married, in love, and here I find you an adulterer once more! Well, at least this time it's a woman!_

Alice seethed, but spoke. Her voice was pinched. "I imagine that you want to know why I'm here, so I'll make it quick. I had a vision of Edward" --- Rose held me tighter, upright --- "asking a congregation of vampires for a favor, and I needed to warn you, just in case something occurs."

"What," Rosalie asked for me, "did he want?"

"To die."

Silence. I wondered if bodies could spontaneously combust, because it felt like my chest was on _fire_ and my stomach was drowning in potent acid. I fell to a heap on the floor, quickly gathered into Rosalie's arms. Every other sensation was muted, and the voices --- the _other_ ones, that is --- sounded as if they had been trapped underwater.

Becuase suddenly, I could see Edward.

"Why?" Rosalie wailed.

Alice pointed to me. "Because of Jasper."

Edward was beside me. He was so concerned, so worried, and I wanted to calm him like he always calms me.

"You wouldn't do that, would you?" I breathed.

A gasp. A sigh. Edward frowned and didn't answer. My breath hitched. "Would you?" I insisted.

His hand stroked my damp curls. He kissed my forehead, golden eyes wide.

"What is he _doing_?" Shrill sounds. I shrunk away from other hands that grasped at me, the dark locks that swung in my face.

"Delusions," Rosalie said.

A pause.

Edward leaned back beside me, and I clutched at his palm. We exchanged forgiving smiles.

"What have I done?"

He embraced my touch and whispered a soft song into my ear. I smiled and hummed along.

Rose sighed. "Nothing. It's all Edward's fault, anyways; he's the one who broke him. You just left him while he was broken and let his mind fracture."

More quiet. I liked it better that way, without all the other people interrupting our time together.

"What can I do to help?"

"Keep watching that bastard." An angry exhale. "If he succeeds …"

"You'll kill him."

The voice is shocked. "Yes. Yes I will, and bring him back to life in order to do it all over again."

Quiet. Edward brushed my drying hair with his fingers and began to tell me a story, silly and babyish compared to our long discussions concerning Shakespeare's sonnets and ancient literature. It was Hans Christian Anderson, if I'm right.

"I'll keep you updated."

A beat.

"Thank you." I hid my face in the curve of Edward's shoulder, whispering back a story to him, of a boy who loved and never forgot.

It was one of my favorites, after all.

**Edward**

_Monday, June 28, 1954 2:39 P.M._

Aro turned to his company; a gesture and all but Caius and Marcus had left.

Gravely, he rested his palms against his throne-like chair. Marcus took a seat, his eyes boring holes into my skull. _I understand, I understand, Iunderstand, IunderstandIunderstand_, he chanted, mouthing the words.

Did Aro, who was still standing, watching us, see his lips move, read them? Marcus seemed crazed, lost in another universe; I did not delve into his mind, but remained in the shallows. Disjointed images assaulted me, leaving me blind to all other activities.

A woman, clothed in finery and crimson, strode out into the moonlight and danced. The taste of murder, caustic on his tongue. Kisses tasting of rose water and ambrosia. Flashing lights and running, running, running. Escape, at long last. An all-consuming love. Devotion and vows. Capture. Death. Loss. Pain.

Overwhelming, suffocating _pain_ …

Jerking, I separated from his chain of memories. I was breathing heavily, and the heavy air was stifling. Marcus still watched me, his mind inviting mine.

If I lost myself, submerged my mind within his and melded our thoughts, would I too become a mad man?

"Edward!" Aro snapped. My gaze shot to his. _What are you doing? What are you _thinking_? My God, are you even coherent, or am I talking to a husk of a man?_

"Yes, Aro?"

"What was the meaning of _that_?" He's frosted.

I felt rebellious as I answered, "You heard me. Must I repeat it, or are you death and dumb?"

He snatched my hand. _I will have order! Do _not_ embarrass me in front of company again, else you will suffer greatly._

I sighed and looked away. Aro was absorbing my past few hours, trying to discover how I could have gone from a wretched, enraged servant to a suicidal man. I felt too tired to pull away; everything seemed to take too much effort to accomplish. Maybe, before I am to be killed, I'll be allowed to write a letter to Carlisle, apologizing. It would be my last request, after all.

_Depression_, he diagnosed. _Possibly bipolar disorder joined with homesickness; it would explain the sudden shifts in mood._ He dug deeper into my mind to examine my reasons. Wincing, I complied.

A new thought brought him to a second conclusion. _No, it's not only depression, but something … deeper. Yes ... perhaps._

His thoughts turned cryptic. Disjointed sentences spiraled through his mind, half-formed ideas and possibilities that flowed, mingling in the great, uncertain pot of my future. For a moment, I wished that Alice was beside me; she could help me to see where my path may lie.

He was still; silent, lost within his thoughts. I copied him; like statues, we stood, all soulless and marble and hushed.

_I've decided, _he told me. And the long awaited answer came: "No."

I blinked. "No?"

"No, Edward." _Your talent is too valuable to waste! I won't allow a sudden fancy to cause the end of your life._

"I'll force you," I threatened. "I'll attack everyone in Volterra, and expose us to the humans."

He chuckled darkly. "Do you really believe that you can defeat us all in one fell blow? Boy, if you are under that misapprehension, you have much to learn.

"And if you do, through some odd chance, manage to kill a human, then there's one less to worry about."

Mouth tight, I glared at him. "Fine," I replied. "Fine." It's an immature and inept response, but I didn't care. I was suddenly weighted down by the crushing weight of broken hope; it felt as though a shard had split my heart in two. Black hatred and sorrow settled within the dead cavern of my heart.

_Stop being so puerile. I'm not quite finished yet._

I wanted to laugh. What now? A severe punishment for even bothering to ask, to hope? A lesson in the eternal lives of vampires and how superior we are to mere mortals? Cruel words that bite and cut?

"Come here." I acquiesced. "Give me your hand." Why not? Like a puppet controlled by strings and a master, I mindlessly extended my arm. Aro's shale palm covered mine, forcing that damned connection between our minds.

_I'm sending you back to Alaska for a single month. _

Shocked, I gaped at him.

_Why_? _Why_, God damn it! Why!

_Felix will accompany you on my task, which will be explained later. In the mean time, leave me and let me deal with these fools; I will send for you within the hour._

With a decisive nod, he left me in a flurry of robes. I was escorted --- no, pushed --- from the rooms, into the hallway, and through the door of my bedchamber. The heavy wooden doors boomed shut.

Blankly, I stared at the walls.

_Why_?

The wallpaper had scrolls drawn all over it, with pens and paint and markers.

Why was he doing this, forcing me to return?

They made up shapes and pictures: a lion with a mane of sunshine, a patch of flowers in a meadow, mermaids and nymphs singing ships down beneath the waves.

What did I _do_?

In that picture, sailors jumped into the waves and the life was sucked out of them. They died with a smile on their face, laughter etched into their lifted cheeks.

What could I have done?

How have I failed?

Why?

Why? Why, why, _why_?

In the corner, a couple kissed passionately, sharp teeth clicking against sharp teeth, white marble hands wandering over glittering skin. A shoulder was exposed, a neck arched. I could almost hear their gasps echo through the room.

In a daze, I walked to that scene.

I looked at it, tilting my head to the side. It's nice. Pretty and full of emotion. Sepia.

My chest ached with a bitter draught of heartache and agonizing pangs and other lugubrious emotions. But hatred, too.

I hated that couple. _Hate, hate, hate_ them! My skin vibrated with repressed ire, blood boiling.

I wanted to kill them, feel their necks break beneath my fists, tear them into shreds, immortalize them as another fucking _moronic_ couple who died for love; an eternal Romeo and Juliet or Hamlet and Ophelia.

My fist stretched back and was thrust forward. Through the aged paints, plaster, stone. Again, again, and again, until all that remained was rubble.

An oily smile stretched across my face.

And, as the story should always go, the couple was no more.

**XXX**

**Jasper**

_Monday, June 28, 1954_ _2:38 P.M._

"Edward's fine," a voice whispered to me later that day. "Alice says he's returning, and he'll see you soon. Alright, Jazz?"

I pouted. What does she mean? Edward was right beside ---

No. I looked around, grasping and twisting the sheets. Where was he? Why had he left me! Franticly, I leapt from the bed, turning left and right and scouring the room for any hint of my love. _Where is he? Where!_

I was frantic when Rosalie stepped forward and calmed me with touches and a soft voice. Lord, had I regressed!

"Shh, shh.," she shushed me, "He's stepped out … to hunt. He'll be back within a week."

"A week?" It seemed like an extraordinary amount of time.

"Yes, but it'll pass by soon." I was pulled into her lap as Emmett watched up from the doorframe. Abruptly, I realized that Edward was gone, bound by the Atlantic and the manacles of his choices. I blinked.

"Am I going batty?" I murmured. She brushed a kiss across my forehead and leaned her head against mine.

"No. No," she repeated, more for herself than me; I sensed the doubt that suffused the words.

"It feels like it, sometimes."

She looked up at Emmett, marble brow furrowed. Downstairs, Alice eavesdropped and her culpability made my stomach churn. "Oh?"

"Yes; I see things, feel things." It scared me, too much. _His_ apparition joined me, and then I forgot, a defensive technique; it would be only minutes after he leaves that I could finally regain my lost memories as I realized that I'm _losing_ it.

She was quiet, thinking. I allowed my eyelids to drop shut in a semblance of mortal sleep and hummed the song that was echoing from _our_ last meeting, having ended minutes ago. It was fresh in my mind.

Rose stiffened and gawked at me and Alice rushed to my door, mouth agape.

"Oh my Lord," she whispered, awed. "You really do see him."

**x**

**x**

**x**

Frosted (adj): angry

Grody (adj): sloppy, messy or dirty

Shot down (v): failed

Batty (adj): insane, loony, crazy

**A/N: This one's fairly short, but the next one ... that's lengthy :)**

**Reviews = love**


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Major props to chach2990 and Cullen86ers, who slaved away to encourage (basically politely tell me to get off my lazy ass and write) and beta for me! Luv ya!**

_Recap: "Yes; I see things, feel things." It scared me, too much. His apparition joined me, and then I forgot, a defensive technique; it would be only minutes after he leaves that I could finally regain my lost memories as I realized that I'm losing it._

_She was quiet, thinking. I allowed my eyelids to drop shut in a semblance of mortal sleep and hummed the song that was echoing from our last meeting, having ended minutes ago. It was fresh in my mind._

_Rose stiffened and gawked at me and Alice rushed to my door, mouth agape._

_"Oh my Lord," she whispered, awed. "You really do see him."_

* * *

**Part Three: Acceptance**

"_There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered."_

--- Nelson Mandela

"_Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye"_

--- H. Jackson Brown Jr.

"_Forgiveness is the final form of love."_

--- Reinhold Niebuhr

* * *

**Edward**

_Monday, June 28, 1954_ _3:51 P.M._

So far, Felix had not bought into my argument. In fact, though I had brought up numerous reasons as to why we should return to Volterra, he had only said, "You are under Aro's service and must do as he wills." Truth be told, it was a stunning counterargument.

Aro had not trusted me with the mission and had filled a personal aircraft with many of his finest: Jane, who watched my every move with a capricious grin; Caius, who had been outraged at the mere mention of traveling by mortal means ("There's a reason that we surpass those blood-cows, Aro!" he had fought, but to little avail); and Corin, who was able to mask scents and sounds, rendering her fellows virtually invisible.

They surrounded me, watching my every breath, and would surely catch me if I dared to attempt an escape. I sighed and looked out a window.

It was warmer now, and I could almost taste the summer in my seat;

What would Carlisle think when he saw me, hidden beneath a cowl and silver-lined robes? What would he do when he realized that I was not there to stay, but to bring an enemy into the household? What would he say when he saw my pin, the mark of my willing imprisonment? I severely doubted he would welcome me with open arms.

… More importantly, what would … Jasper think? Would he call me a hypocrite as I stared into his surely-golden eyes, knowing that I had consumed human blood? Or had he already packed up and left with Alice?

I cringed at the thought. Even though I had promised to remain out of the way and allow Jasper and Alice to remain together, it still made my chest burn with fury to imagine that he was with another; I focused on meditative breathing, slowly and steadily to starve the flames of their oxygen. I had improved, over the last few months, when it came to handling my explosive temper; when I felt the all-consuming anger crawling up my throat and choking me with a lead collar, I tried to focus on cool reasoning, facts and statistics. It did little to help, but kept me from tearing the heads off my mental attackers.

And it kept me from daring to hope for a joyous reunion. I was a realist, and had been ever since I was human, I believe; dreams are to be reached for, but when discovered unattainable, discarded. I was sure of Rosalie's wrath and Esme's dry sobs, of my brother and father's disapproval, of regret and anguish and red-hot hatred. But I didn't dare guess how Alice and Jasper would react. I dared not hope for more than a curt nod, at best – or, if I was extremely lucky, a word or two.

I shifted in my seat with mortal impatience, catching Jane's eager eyes. She smiled a predator's smile, all pointed teeth and glittering venom and bloodlust. I was sure to stay as far from her mind as possible; she was able to sense me there and would, no doubt, attack me if I even approached her barriers, let alone breached them. And the last thing I needed at the moment was a mental war!

"How much longer is it?" I asked Felix. I was beginning to recognize the familiar terrain of the Alaskan wilderness, no longer as barren as when I had left it seven months ago.

Felix shrugged, reminding me of Emmett with his bulging muscles. "Possibly an hour or less, depending." _If you attempt to flee, then it will take much longer and be much more painful for you. Don't try and escape your fate – the gods have willed it to be so for a reason._

I hummed, then turned away. Nervousness filled me with a cement that itched my insides, leaving me languidly heavy and jittery.

What was I _doing_?

It was ludicrous, even more so because my existence depended on this so-called mission to "check up on Carlisle" who had been "such a good friend"; a preposterous explanation, even with the carful fringe decorating the lies: to spy and report back any suspicious activity, to search for those who had been changed and could be persuaded to join the Volturi, to take notes on my family's activities.

But what else could I do? If I defied Aro, he would torture me, keeping me alive and coherent until I became crazed, a wild creature of only wants and fulfillment. If I accepted his challenge, then I might be able to die in peace, as how I had wanted it to be since the thirties. I had little choice in this situation.

Time seemed to pass quickly after that. Jane eyed me throughout the duration of the flight, and the others were quiet and still, passive. It made me ireful, that they could care so little while I was trapped in this damned limbo.

It was stormy out when we touched down, the air fragrant with summer's warmth and charm and dirty-clean with the scent of the rainfall. We were closer to Tanya's than I had expected, less than half-hour away. I debated making up some excuse to postpone our travel, but decided against it; I would only do so in the most severe cases, as the punishment for lying was brutal.

**Jasper**

_Monday, June 28, 1954_ _3:14 P.M._

Forlorn and wretched, I eyed Alice warily. "Of course. He watches over me."

She's skeptical, that's easy enough to sense, even without my power. Searing jealousy battered against my mental walls, making me wince. Ah. So she wasn't only envious of Rose, but Edward – _especially_ Edward. "And what is the nature of these visions? What do they feel like?" I felt a wave bitter hatred break over my skin, washing it with spite and heartache; it felt like thorns, driven into my flesh, or maybe sharpened needles.

As calmly as possible, I responded, "I see him before me."

"What does he look like?"

I laid my head against Rosalie's shoulder, drawing from her soothing presence and inner strength. "I-h … he's unchanged."

Alice's lips curled in a grimace. She may have abhorred Edward, but she hated seeing me so weak more. It reminded her of when we had first met as two broken, confused beings, lost without a cause. "That's not a vision, Jasper. I've seen Edward, and he's changed very much."

_How_? I wanted to ask. The word was held on the tip of my tongue, but I chained it, bound it, swallowed it back down. I wasn't sure if I truly wanted to know the various changes that had affected Edward while he was in Italy; I would rather dwell in the past, a brief period of subtle joy and constant affection – from both my estranged wife and once-a-time lover.

But I hadn't asked. Having successfully withheld my query, I instead nodded once. I would have ample time to ponder over Edward's changes when he arrived. Before I could ask, Alice answered for me, like the good ol' times.

"He'll be in the vicinity at five-oh-three, but won't enter until near six."

"Oh."

She bobbed her head in confirmation; then, she sighed, an ugly, astral sound.

"Why can't I be near you?" she whispered, sagging against the doorframe. She looked like a child, forlorn and innocent and wide-eyed. Her makeup was perfect, but her dress was wrinkled – a most severe crime in Alice's mind. "Why don't you want to be with me?"

I had to say something – now. I twisted around in Rosalie's grasp, facing my wife. "Rose, would you please leave us?"

Furrowing her brow, lips parted in confusion, Rose's emotions were louder than any words."Are you sure?" she wondered. I wasn't sure, to be honest; I still felt weak around Alice. But, as I couldn't bear to be simultaneously assaulted by both of their emotions, I asked her once more to leave. "Please," I added. "I need to do this."

And though Rose doubted me, she left the room after brushing a soft kiss to my forehead and giving me a second questioning glance.

When I was sure that she had left the house – made painfully obvious by the slamming of doors – I turned to Alice. She played with the hem of her dress, twisting the tasteful fabric until the pattern was warped and spun. I watched her for some time, unsure of what to say that could breach the extensive void between us. I felt it there – that yawning, pitch chasm, so wide and so deep that I could not even begin to conceive how she would react to my words, and I to hers.

We've both changed, for better or worse, and there was little we can now do besides accept the fact.

"Will it be worse, seeing him? Will it chill'ya?" Alice questioned suddenly. Her hands were twisted together in her lap now, fingers taunt and white with stress. She detested talking about him, possibly even more than I did.

I did not lie. "Yes." To both.

"More so than seeing me?"

"Much, much worse, I suspect." Every time I thought of him, pangs echoed through the dead cavern of my chest, reminding me of why I was in this situation.

"Can I tell you something, Jazz?" She was still examining her fingers, biting her lip delicately. It seemed cruel to deter her, so I acquiesced. "I want you to be happy – I really do – and I love you so, so much. But, Jazz …" – she blew out her breath, making her short bangs lift and fly – "I've seen you and him, in the future, and most of it … it's not good. It's downright tragic."

I stoppered the fear that bubbled up within me, scuttling it away to the dark corner of my mind; it gurgled, toxic to my fragile state of my mentality. I would not let her words dissuade me! "The future is subjective," I quoted, voice shaky. "It changes and flows with time –"

She held a hand up, freezing the words still echoing in my mind. "Jasper stop right there. I don't want to see you filled with hope and then go crazy when everything turns fishy. Let me tell you what I've seen – about when he will appear.

"If you see him the moment he arrives, he will lose all inhibitions, and you will, too; you'll both lose control and – just please, _please_ don't see him until he seeks you out. He may have come to terms with certain aspects of himself, but if you push him, he will run away again. And you both will fade away like wraiths."

I didn't like Alice's warnings. They stifled me, the words pressing against the inside of my skull in a chaotic mess of prophecies and nightmares and yearnings, all hot and ugly.

"Let me handle this, Jasper," she whispered into my ear. I shivered. "Let me show him what could happen, and then, he'll come to you. Let me help you; I didn't stay here like I should have, so let me make it up to you. I can make you two happy, Jazz."

Did I dare trust her? I heaved a sigh. It was a better solution than most, and I doubted Alice would do anything to spite me. Maybe to Edward, but not to me.

"Okay," I rasped. My fingers reached out, like little roots searching for water and nutrients, only I was searching for comfort; my hands latched onto the exposed skin of her diamond hands

"Alright. Now, I need to be there when he enters. Can I trust you to stay up here until he opens the door to your room, and then to not launch yourself at him? He will be bringing powerful vampires with him, ones who want nothing more than to find his weaknesses and then to exploit them to trap him into remaining with them for all eternity. Will you do that?"

I licked my lips. Looking away at my twiddling thumbs, playing with the navy bedspread, I nodded slowly. "I think I can."

"No, Jazz, I need to know that you can follow through on this." Her hands cupped my jaw, pulling my face towards hers. "_Can you do this_?"

And I knew then that I had to. There was no choice.

"Yes."

**Edward**

_Monday, June 28, 1954_ _5:03 P.M._

I heard their thoughts as I finally approached the property. Cool and ireful, wondrous, welcoming, spiteful, eager – their variegated mindsets overwhelmed me; I didn't know which to focus on. And I was anxious, and perturbed, as I desperately wanted – no, _needed_ – to seek out Jasper's mind; I could already sense its particular tenor. As close as I was, the temptation was nearly irresistible, sinfully alluring.

I wanted nothing more than to delve into the ocean of his mind, submerge myself for hours upon hours in his insights, worries, and joys. I wanted to lose myself in the source of his delights and sorrows, to feel hale for the first time in months, as I was convinced that only the tender touch of his mind could heal me of my plights; it was such an unexpectedly odd notion that I started upon realizing it.

_What?_ Felix snapped at me. We dared not speak so close, to give away our location until we were too close for them to escape. I knew my family would not dare try to flee; if they did, it would be customary to hunt, herd, and slaughter them. And, my Lord, did my family _live_.

I shook my head, raising a single finger. I mouthed my words. "Give me some time. If Alice is there, she will know that we have arrived; by waiting, we are testing them. Let us remain here until the end of the hour."

Jane snorted softly, kicking at the grass. Chunks of earth flew through the air, pelting evergreens and ferns. I glowered at her, paying no heed to her toothy, sweet-bitter smile.

That was _not_ being inconspicuous!

Felix scowled, but thankfully accepted my explanation. I glanced back at Jane, who was busy weaving dead tree limbs into a long, unwieldy braid; the branches creaked, on the verge of cracking into a thousand razor shards. I huffed, screwing up my face in some unknown expression of abhorrence and annoyance.

I hated child vampires.

"Why don't you go hunt or something? You're causing a ruckus," I mimed. Jane sighed, letting go of the tree limbs. They rasped dryly, a groan of death and tortured life forms, before snapping stridently; brushing off her black cloak, she divested herself of the remains.

_Now, I can't allow you to be by yourself, can I, Edward? You might run off and hide from your ex-lover, and then we would have to chase you down and catch you. _A not-so-pleasant vision of Felix, Caius, and her, shooting at me with archaic bows and arrows, blossomed in her mind; I was a pile of torn granite by the end of it.

Caius's brow puckered, but, as he had for the trip thus far, remained silent. I hissed softly, settling onto the earth. The loom was damp from the recent rain and molded around me; I could smell a heard of elk downwind – maybe ten, eleven miles off. Their musky scent no longer made venom pool searing and copiously into my mouth, and I wrinkled my nose.

I wanted blood, of the human variety, of course. My throat burned at the remembrance of my last sampling, which was aged and slightly floral: _delicious_. The dilemma was that I, now within the residential hunting grounds of the Denali covens, was unable to consume any of that sweet liquor; I was already hooked on the gluttonous diet, accustomed to hot sweetness, not a bitter liquid; however, I also knew that the Volturi members might be forced to leave me to hunt, as they regularly gorged upon the immoral ambrosia.

Christ! Even imagining its texture, its _flavor_, made my throat burn and teeth itch! To distract myself, I decided to give into another, lesser desire: watching Jasper. I dared not settle in the recesses of his mind, which would lull me into a drowsy stupor, so I watched from Emmett's mind … but he wasn't with Emmett. Nor was he in the company of Carlisle, or Esme, or even Alice … but he was with Rosalie.

And may the gods of old and new fear her, for she was all white fury and odium!

_Oh, when I see Edward, I am going to _kick_ his fucking ass! Oh, Jazz, you need to move on, honey. There's only so much you can do. And I know you're out there, Edward; if you're listening, know that I will follow you and tear your balls off if so much as turn around and run back to your hideaway!_

Extremely encouraging. I was sure to avoid her at all costs!

But then, she turned and focused … and I saw him: _Jasper_. He was staring at a bedside clock, watching the numbers, mouthing the seconds; his hands were wringing uneasily and his brow was furrowed in a perturbed 'v'. Rose pitied him.

_You really ought to move on … I know him, and he won't show. And if he does, by Jove, he will break your heart yet again! And who will be there to see you suffering? Me. _Her eyes flitted from his eyes to his bit lip to the rumpled covers. _I don't want you to lose it again._

Jasper was broken.

And I had done this.

I settled down into the ferns, against an evergreen, and let the venom well up in my eyes.

**XXX**

The sun finally managed to break free from the whirlpool of pregnant clouds, and that's the moment that I gathered my shredded threads of courage and knocked quickly on the wooden door.

A sixteenth of a second later, the door was wrenched open, nearly torn from the walls; the metal hinges were barely half-attached. And then, I saw before me: my family.

They watched me with wary eyes and mild shock. I saw them, standing in two tidy rows: Rose and Emmett, Esme and Carlisle, Tanya, Alice.

Alice looked at me with such beseeching resentment that I recoiled from the whip-like _snap_ of her thoughts. Her golden eyes betrayed her – I knew at that very moment that she would do anything and everything to protect him from me.

She had learned her lesson. And it seemed, I thought, recounting the faces in the crowd, that he had, too. There was no Southern charm and wild, golden hair to greet me, and I was, perversely enough, thankful for that fact; I was certain Alice had informed him of my deeds and I had no intentions of facing Jasper while my eyes were still stained with death and while I donned a shroud and pin. My pride didn't allow it.

_Edward._ I swiveled on my heel, turning to face Alice. Her golden eyes bore into mine once more. _Listen to me. Pay attention, for your sake._

I gave a half-nod, and then was blinded by a sudden pitch. No – wait. Clutching at the chair off to my right, I settled into its warmth as I realized that Alice was sharing a vision with me; the darkness was only painted on the inside of my mind, a stage for the main players, most likely the Volturi and I, and if I focused hard enough, I could see straight through it. And then, it unfolded, colored and hazy, jerking from one scene to the next, like the flicker of hummingbird wings.

I saw … myself, hiding away in the cervices of the house, seeking solitude in every second. And one day – I grimaced – a man, golden-haired and unbelievably confused, finally gave up on waiting; he flew in great bounds, hurtling himself towards me as if any second spent away from me was painful.

I saw the way that I curled up into myself, away from his pleading gaze. He was so sad, so lonely, and I yelled and pushed him away – no, no. Now we were furiously incited, mashing lips and tongues and teeth, yanking at each other's coverings until we were bare, like so long ago, and whispered long-sought answers to undesirable questions. We were wanton and needy, rutting like two angry beasts, marking one another, though we indisputably knew that, upstairs, _everyone_ could hear us. It only made everything that much more intense –

And I pulled away from him, shattering vases spilling blue-enameled diamonds into our skin, sprinkling the glittering crystals into our damp hair. Our clothes were muddy, bloodied, and we bellowed and cried and clung to one another, like two broken souls, knowing that it was all over, over too quickly –

Jasper looked up at me as I entered, and neither of us spoke a word. There was a gaping gorge separating us; I didn't know him, and he didn't know me, anymore at least –

No. no, no, _no_!

I tore away from her mind, breathless, as the image of billowing columns of sickly-sweet smoke and sobbing coven members clung to my mind. Shaking it off, I was left with an after image, of how we both suffered: unwanted, lifeless, and discarded carcasses of men.

Forced by her visions – especially the last, which I would do my best to prevent, as I'm sure Alice had intended –I knew what must be done, and I would do it. It wasn't out of pure desire or uncapped love or just plain old guts, but need. Jasper and I, well, it seemed that the ill-fated stars had aligned our lives so that our fates were … intertwined. Inseparable.

It finally occurred to me that I _needed_ him – somehow – in my life in order to be really, truly happy; maybe, we wouldn't be lovers, but we could be friends. At the very least, we could begin anew, freshly and maybe even agreeably.

This could be my new start. And I always fixed my mistakes.

So, I first gave a wary, wobbly smile to Esme and Carlisle, and mouthed, "I'm sorry." They bowed their heads, and as they peered up at me through their lashes, I tasted _redemption_, zesty and alien on my tongue. They forgave me with just one twin thought: _Come back home, Edward; we miss you._

Though I knew that it was an impossibility, it made me realize just how much my family loved me; I spat venom into their faces, ran from home, and pillaged and murdered … yet their arms were always open, ready to accept me back into their hearth and hearts.

Like a child, I approached them gingerly, aware that I was not beyond reproach and deserved a stern tongue-lashing; they folded me in their arms, and Esme peppered kisses into my hair. I pulled them closer, shuttering my eyes to hide my sins, opening my mind to acknowledge them as they had me.

I felt like the prodigal son. And it warmed me to know that I was still loved.

Esme's thoughts ran over my mind like cool water, or a balm, soothing the aches of memories and past words. _When you escape, _she cooed to me, _we'll protect you. We love you, and we'll do anything to aid you – whatever you need or desire, simply ask and we'll do our best to provide._

My cheeks lifted in a grin, piercing canines exposed. "I know."

_Good. Now, turn around, and be cool. They're watching you._ I understood, tightening my grip on my mother's jacket.

Sure enough, when I faced the Volturi members, they eyed me with almost delicate consideration; they were probably deciding where to strike next in order to keep me under their paws, taking mental notes of who they could threaten and how to come about it. I pushed my family away – I would not place them in danger! – and stood tall. I was in my own territory, and I drew strength from the fact.

Rosalie and Alice thought I was a crumb. When I eyed them, they glowered and sniffed, tossing their hair and treating me as though I was a nobody. Well, I sighed, I did deserve that. The mending process between them and I would take time, but this was as good of a start as any. So, I greeted them softly and gave feisty Rose a kiss on the cheek, and I shook hands with Alice; her husband and visions restrained me from treating her as I had Rose.

"_Get_ _off_, Edward," Rose spat when my lips touched her forehead. "Get the fuck out of here!"

"You're thoughts are disagreeing with you, Rosie," I murmured. I ducked the punch that followed my words … and something bubbled up within me, and I … I _laughed_. For the first time in seven months, I had _smiled_ without any provocation and I had _laughed_. The shock made the chuckles cut off prematurely, but I still felt the joy there, simple and complete, vibrating in my voice, humming inside me.

I was happy. And it was strange to find that, here, at home. It was like returning, back in the thirties, with my head bowed and sorrow weighing heavy on my heart, and then having it banished with love and forgiveness.

The new buoyancy carried me, allowing me to swallow my pride and do what must be done. And though I was still ashamed of what I had done, I was no longer chained by my past; I felt the bindings snap free with that first grin. I was home!

Although I felt the Volturi's heavy-lidded gaze on my back, I ignored them. They no longer mattered to me. I was _free_, for whatever short time I would remain here. I passed them, passed my family, and allowed Caius and Felix to explain their presence. It was not my duty.

As I walked up the stairs, calm and collected, a new vision entered my mind. I saw how, once I had properly greeted my parents and friends, I paraded into Jasper's room and opened myself for his view.

**Jasper**

_Monday, June 28, 1954_ _6:07 P.M._

I felt it when he entered the house, the new swirl of emotions swabbing the air clean of the old; I remembered how his steps fell against the carpeted floors – but they had changed. Now, they were more hesitant, softer and flightier, like the worry of a butterfly's wings when one stepped too close. His breathing was light and quick, and his words were few and far in between.

But he was here, and that was more than enough for me. It was one of the most difficult things I've ever done, waiting for him to creep up those steps like an ashamed, adulterous husband. I wanted nothing more than to approach him and sooth him, to tell him that everything was 'okay'.

And then, I heard the steps creek underneath his weight, and I imagined him cocking his head, trying to figure out where I was. In case he was relying solely on my mind to guide him, I flashed images of the room to him in addition to ruffling the sheets. Then, I stood, took a step, and two –

And there he was. I stopped, staring. My so-called visions of him had not done him justice.

It was counter-image to our first encounter: his eyes were hot and dark with human blood while mine were a light golden; he was the stranger in this home, and I was a resident; he knew me, and I knew him. He stepped through the door, smirking. I felt his dark amusement curl languidly through me, like smoke.

And I was _whole_. My little planet had found its sun again.

For the first time in months, I breathed a breath of air, and did not feel it _whoosh_ out of the gaping holes in my lungs, did not feel it slither out through my shredded heart. It was as though the carvings made by our separation had been healed … could only be healed … by our reunion.

And so, I inhaled deeply, luxuriating in his unexpectedly familiar scent.

"Hey," he muttered, hands in his pockets. Though he was pretending to be nonchalant, I knew better than to buy the act; I felt his impatience and nervousness and fear and joy. He was anything but impassive.

"Hey," I parroted back to him. He smiled, though his forehead puckered and his eyebrows were drawn down into a vicious 'v'. He didn't want me to know something; he was colored in maroon and yellow, which made everything _that_ much more difficult.

I huffed. "Come on, I'm not going to judge."

He blinked. Then, he stepped into the room; his cloak billowed, revealing a silver pin.

"Oh," I murmured. So _that's_ where he went. No wonder Alice cautioned me!

Taking a deep, even breath, I let it out slowly. "Open your mind to me." I spoke softly, afraid to frighten him away; he was still, spine ramrod-straight.

He nodded, and I began.

_Why are you here? I doubt it's because the Volturi allowed you vacation time, or you missed m-us so much that you were compelled to return._

He kicked at the carpeting, jaw tight, and I recalled how much younger and predisposed he was, in comparison to me – I had a good forty-some years on him.

"It's a job," he muttered. I sighed. Apparently, though he had come to me of his own violation, it would still take a bit of cajoling to make him open up to me. I reclined against the bed, and then patted the spot next to me.

"Relax." _Sit down; I'm not going to bite._ I recalled his silvery bite mark, and wondered at it. His emotions grew dark, so I shoved the thought away. _Sorry._

"It's fine," he shrugged.

I sighed again. _I meant why are you _here_ – in this room, with me? I need to know, Edward._

He shifted on the bed, biting his lip. "I don't want to tell you."

_Please, stop being so childish and tell me._

Scowling at the fact, Edward shifted, then looked up at the open door. He glowered and wrenched it shut; it boomed loudly.

"I wish they would keep their thoughts to themselves," he said, settling back onto the bed with me. There was less distance between us this time, and, inwardly, I beamed.

"I'm sorry," he began, watching me the entire time. His mind was calculating and shrewd; this had not changed over the half-year of his absence; in fact, his time away had only made the quality so keen that his emotions were rarely recognized, and only so in shocked realizations.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you. I-Jasper, I never meant to- I mean, I…" he rubbed his temples. Unexpectedly, he smirked down at me red eyed glittering in self-hatred. "This is harder than I had thought it would be."

A whisper of a breath, and I was sitting beside him, hand hovering before his face. He watched it with a wary unease.

"Don't you understand?" I said softly, trying to break through the brittle veneer that kept Edward away from the world. "I've already forgiven you." It was done the moment I had learned that he was arriving in Denali. _You didn't even have to say a word; it was done before you even started bumbling. I will always forgive you, Edward. _

_I don't care what you've done, or why. I don't care that you've drank from humans or joined the Volturi. _I don't give a damn. _What I do care about it whether or not you've forgiven yourself._

Still watching my upraised hand, he opened his mouth questioningly as he threaded his fingers through mine. He examined it from every angle, eyes narrowed and mind finally open to me.

"How can you say that?" His eyes shot up to meet mine. "How can you just –"

Calmly, I pressed a single finger to his lips. Our hands fell down into the space between us, bridging the gap that had once yawned and moaned, preventing our reunion. But no more!

Shushing him, I answered, "Because I love you, and when you truly love another, you will always – eventually – forgive them."

**x**

**x**

**x**

Chill 'ya (V): When an unusual "hot" passion gives you goose pimples

Kill (V): delighted

Crumb (Adj): someone not worth respecting

*** A note on the colors: maroon represents strength, purpose, recuperation, moodiness, and selfishness. Yellow stands for an analytical, scientific mind which overcomes ignorance; expectancy; and tenacity.

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**A/N:Yay! Boy oh boy, have I been eagerly waiting to write this part -- now, the good stuff begins :)**

**Kisses to my lovely readers and reviews, who put up with my erratic updates!**


	18. Chapter Seventeen

_Recap: "Don't you understand?" I said softly, trying to break through the brittle veneer that kept Edward away from the world. "I've already forgiven you." It was done the moment I had learned that he was arriving in Denali. __You didn't even have to say a word; it was done before you even started bumbling. I will always forgive you, Edward. _

_I don't care what you've done, or why. I don't care that you've drank from humans or joined the Volturi. __I don't give a damn. __What I do care about it whether or not you've forgiven yourself._

_Still watching my upraised hand, he opened his mouth questioningly as he threaded his fingers through mine. He examined it from every angle, eyes narrowed and mind finally open to me._

_"How can you say that?" His eyes shot up to meet mine. "How can you just –"_

_Calmly, I pressed a single finger to his lips. Our hands fell down into the space between us, bridging the gap that had once yawned and moaned, preventing our reunion. But no more!_

_Shushing him, I answered, "Because I love you, and when you truly love another, you will always – eventually – forgive them."_

**A/N: Once again, love to my super sweet beta, chach2990 :) **

* * *

**Edward**

_Monday, June 28, 1954_ _6:57 P.M._

There is only so much time you are given, depending on the circumstance.

I was given seventeen years of mortal life, three excruciating days in the fires of Hades, just under ten years of careful tutoring under my mentor, Carlisle, and then three years and one week of indulgent sins, exquisite tastes and sensations. I then was granted twenty-two years, five months, and fifteen days of uninterrupted life in the company of my family.

However, all good things must end.

I was given only a brief period to be alone with Jasper: three minutes, twelve-point-six seconds. It wasn't enough time, for us to heal, to reconnect. But it was all that we were given.

With his head nestled into the crook of my neck, his disheveled hair brushing my cheek, I held him close to me. His breathing was sweet and peppery, and his fingers were claws, locking the two of us together. I rested my cheek against the top of his head, just listening to his sounds.

This was how they discovered us.

A glint in Jane's red eyes, and I knew that we were doomed. Sadistic and cunning, there was little I could do to escape her wrath. She knew this.

_Oh! Look at what we have here! Oh, Edward, you shall regret this moment for the remainder of your pitiful existence._

Jasper tried to twist his head around, sensing my stillness and the others' presence; I held his head still. Dotting a kiss on the top of his head, I whispered too softly, "Don't."

He didn't listen. Though I tried --- and how I tried! --- to keep him hidden from the Volturi, I knew that my attempts were futile. Shrugging off my touch, he glared at Felix, Jane, and Caius; Alice was standing behind them, biting at her lip. Catching her eye, I opened my mind.

_It's going to be bad. Jasper remembers Caius --- the man killed a good portion of Maria's army and nearly tore Jasper apart. They cannot stand each other_, she warned me.

I snarled, baring venom-coated teeth at the arranged group. They ignored me, focused on their new prey: Jasper.

Caius spoke first. Cocking his head at an impossible angle, he examined Jasper's defensive pose and the glittering razor cuts of his skin; exposed only by his neck, hands, and wrists, Jasper's feathery scars marked him as what he was: a warrior.

"Jasper, how lovely it is to see you once more." His eyes flitted to mine. I let out a cautionary hiss. "Edward, why did you never tell us that you knew Jasper?" _Now this is _interesting!

"I wasn't aware that it was anything of concern to you."

"It is very much a cause of … disquiet. We had no idea that there were such talents residing within these walls. I shall return and notify Aro of the new developments. Edward, you will remain here with the others; obey them as your supervisors. If we hear that anything has gone erroneous …"

The threat remained unspoken, voiced only through his macabre thoughts that centered on my family. Biting back a growl, I nodded. It would not do well to anger the leader when you planned to appeal to him for more time away from business.

Caius left then in a swirl of ink crypress, and Jane eyed me. I thought that she was half-mad, the way she was carrying on; her pupils darted between Jasper and I rapidly, so that her eyes were practically vibrating, and an atypical smile was frozen on her cherubic façade.

"Leave us," I hissed at her.

_Perhaps, one day,_ she replied dreamily. _But at the moment, you and I have much to accomplish_._ Leave your darling and follow me; you may return to him at nightfall and do whatever your kind enjoy_.

If Jasper's arm had not encircled my waist at that precise moment, I would have leapt upon her and tore her into a hundred thousand granite pieces. Jasper seemed to realize this, though, and help me close to his side.

His thoughts clashed with Jane's as he cast a soothing aura around me. _Relax. It is fine; whatever she said cannot tear us apart or match the tribulations we are certain to face._ I felt him sigh, softer than the wisp of angel's flight. _Go, before she suspects more than the truth, and I will meet you soon._

I leaned in against him for a millisecond, enjoying the warmth of companionship and familiar affection and _Jasper_, before stepping away.

I didn't dare look back. Though it was doubtless that the others had been informed of my reasoning before I was even informed of the so-called "mission", I could now do nothing more, lest I cement the belief that Jasper and I were more than intimately involved, that maybe, perhaps, we were mates. I could not allow them such a power, so when I pulled away, I did it coolly, almost carelessly.

Jasper would understand, as he had before. Of this, I was sure; anyone who could forgive me the largest of sins accepted my purposes without explanation, and Jasper and I … well, we were connected in a way that I couldn't explain. It was as if we were kindred souls, or blood brothers, connected at the wellspring of our being, where we drew our strength, love, and virtues, even our vices. We instantly understood one another at the meeting, recognized our mirrored hearts in out subconscious, and hated it. No one likes to be faced with their own flaws, after all. I could not stand him, but then we were both intrigued, and then curious, and then … besotted.

The epiphany makes me chuckle lowly.

How could I have been such an idiot, not seeing what was right in front of me? Jasper and I were natural and unforced; I could not force myself to feel something for another, demand that my emotions and thoughts adapt to fit into my vision of a perfect son and man. It was an impossible task.

I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with the last traces of his scent. It lingered in the hallway outside his bedroom, but was nearly absent in the remainder of the abode.

I would do my best to accept whatever occurred, I resolved. If it was not natural or was uncomfortable, then we would revert to our former, awkward relationship; if not, then we would continue on the path for the time being.

My decision was made. A wide smile stretched my face like a clown's mask, for my bliss was absolute.

Jasper and I. Me and Jasper.

Tantalizing prospects, and a month of two collaborating minds to free me from my bondage.

My grin ballooned, and my face began to ache.

Jane eyed me oddly, following my footsteps just so. It was as though she thought that mines were planted beneath the floorboards, and only my family or I knew the way through the maze. A ridiculous notion, mind you, but amusing nonetheless.

The future was suddenly looking oh-so bright.

**XXX**

How do you count the hours? How can you measure a person's irritancy, boredom, and plain I-_really_-don't-care? How can you stand knowing that the moments are counting down until you must return to Hell?

I huffed, twirling a butter knife between my fingers. The family, for the most part, had disbanded and left to go hunt; tonight, when the sun set, my Volturi allies would chase down youth to sustain them for the coming week.

Perhaps then I would see Jasper for more than a few minutes. Shit, even a few hours or days would not be enough time. I wanted to bottle him up, everything special about him, and preserve his spirit for the coming years, so that when times were rough, I could always have him near me. It is silly, but true.

Jane snapped her fingers in front of my face._ Fucking_ _idiot. Focus. You cannot daydream about your lover._ "Are you with us?"

I shook my head and then answered, "Yes."

"Good. Then you shall remain here tonight, and tomorrow you may hunt and have your fill."_ I hope you do not return to those filthy animals. Ugh! It is a mystery as to how anyone can ever be completely satisfied feeding off mongrels! _

Her eyes gleamed then. _So, tell me about your lover. Jasper, was it? Tell me about him. He seems kind enough, forgiving you of all your terrible wrongs, but is awfully attached to you. Do you have any idea why?_

I snorted. "Not a clue."

She hummed, smiling manically. Wincing, I half-expected her to pervade my veins with torturous wracks of fire, but nothing happened. I dared not lessen my guard, though.

_Is that so?_ "We shall see."

I did not like the sound of that.

**XXX**

**Jasper**

_Monday, June 29, 1954_ _3:02 A.M._

"It's Devil's Hour."

I twisted to face the man behind me. Leaning against the brace of his legs, the corners of my mouth lifted for the first time in months. "Yes, it is. Do you expect to see any ghosts or witches?"

Edward chuckled, deep and dark as molten chocolate. I closed my eyes, luxuriating in the sound. "No," he whispered into my ear, "but maybe a vampire or two."

"Mmm. Those are difficult to find at this time of year, with the constant sunshine. If any lived nearby, they have long since been burned away by the summer sun." I smiled slightly.

"Oh, really?" His answering grin was sly. "Well then, I suppose that we have little to worry about." The words had an unintended sharp edge; the corners of my lips curled wryly. Thrust back into reality, I sighed regretfully. "How long will you remain here?"

He buried his face in his hands, and I ached to comfort him and to feel his own condolences. His voice was muffled when he replied, "A month, maybe less."

"That's all?"

"That's it."

I wrapped my arms around my knees, resting my chin against my knees. Forlorness isolated me, wrapping and tearing my inner organs to rocky shards. When I could no longer stand the jittery pain, I turned back around to face the lake. Water lapped at my feet in tiny ringlets, spurred by the wind and moon, which was enormous and brilliant against the dark mirror of the mere; I imagined it captured, locked away and struggling to escape, its resounding screams echoed in the hums and buzzes and sounds of the nighttime insects. Then, I stood and, slowly, as only a mortal could, paced the length of the rocky shore. Edward remained at the same spot, eyes locked upon the stars.

A month. A single month of companionship, affection, and bonding, and then … what? Nothing. Nothing but the memories and promise of another meeting, sometime in the far future? I could not bear to live with that, and I was certain that Edward could not, either!

His loneliness and hopelessness cut me to the quick; though I wished to comfort him, I knew that there was little I could do, little to be said. He would reject my comforts, being too prideful and stubborn. I knew that he heard my complaints, for his brow crinkled and his frown stretched the further I walked and the more I thought. However, he allowed me peace to ponder our impending circumstances. I was grateful for that.

When I completed the first lap, I continued past the other, circling the lake until the set of the moon, when the sky was gray and everything had the shade of death. Then, I knelt beside him, grasped his hand in mine, and kissed it.

"I will not let you abandon me," I proclaimed gravely.

He huffed and bent down, so close that I could taste his words on my lips. "I know that. You deserve better." And I immediately understood that he wished me and Alice to have a happy, unfeasible ending.

"Edward," I said, dotting another tender kiss on his palm, "I may have been pleased with Alice, but you are what I need, what I require." Like a dying plant, he was the water, nutrients, and sunlight essential for my productive life; I needed him more than he realized, and, I am sure, more than even I was willing to admit. It was not healthy, but it was what I required to endure.

His hand slipped from mine, slippery as a wet fish. "Don't think that."

"I cannot help it. It is the truth."

"It's shit, that is what it is." His voice was astringent.

But I just knew how to calm him. Wrapping him in a cloud of peace and love, I reached up to cradle his face between my two palms. I wanted to kiss him, to comfort him and end his suffering, to end my suffering. I wanted forever and then some, a constant devotion that would never fade under the wake of another's presence. I did not want to become Alice: abandoned and lost; loved, but not enough to save her marriage.

However, I could not, for he would push me away. So, I waited for him to look at me.

It felt as though I was staring into his soul. His eyes widened and metallic fear settled on my tongue. I frowned, but continued anyways; the anxiety was mild, nearly drowned out by his desire, wonder, and confusion. He still leaned into my touch, despite his trepidation.

My thumbs caressed his cheekbones, round and pronounced, like the bones of a starved man. Maybe, he had been starving once, and no one ever realized it. In a past life, he must have suffered much, starved from compassion or respect or love, and no one had ever helped him, fed him with gentle caresses and soft words until his heart was ripe and welcoming. However, if he ever so unfortunate as to starve again, I would know. I would be the one to hold him through the tribulations and receive him with a smile and a kiss.

"What do you want from me?" he finally asked when I did not speak.

What did I want? Impossibilities, like never again experiencing hateful emotions that made my head throb and heart ache, or being able to fist stars and entire galaxies, so that one day, I could open the treasure chest of locked fingers to discover whole worlds and billions of lives and strange, wondrous things. I wanted more time, more emotion from him, less logic.

But I accepted him, Edward Cullen, for all that he was.

"Stop worrying. Let whatever happens, happens. I want much, but you must understand that there is little that I require of you: fidelity, honesty, and respect." I shrugged, embracing the pungently yellow shock. It made my mouth fill with venom; I swallowed it down before continuing.

"You already are aware of how I feel for you, and though you are determined to push your emotions aside, I experience them all the same. I know you, Edward, better than you realize. This is not some folly that has taken hold of my brain or a secret whim, but a true, long-lasting commitment. I will be yours until you walk away. I –"

The finger pressed hard and fierce against my lips. Edward was overcome, his eyes damp and emotions wild, though he only scowled. "Stop. I will not hear of that!"

As though an impish child, I licked at his finger. He hooted and pulled away, and the tense air was broken for some time. He called me ridiculous, and I only smiled, knowing that he was pleased that we could joke and play like young friends, and cuffed his shoulder. That began a rambunctious fight, and we wrestled until the sun broke the horizon, spilling golden honey over the landscape.

As I pushed him to the ground, his eyes alight and smile broad, skin painted silver in the moonlight, I knew that there was little that could be considered more beautiful. He chuckled then, relaxed beneath me, and I felt the air shift. His grin transformed into a more wary, excited version, and I felt my own smile respond in kind.

When he turned us, my hands combed through his sloppy bronze locks, feeling the metallic strands pass through the sieve of my fingers, and my lips were already parted in preparation. When he slowly brushed a kiss over my cheek, I leaned into his touch. No longer controlled by the sway of drug-like storms, everything was soft and wanting, needy, but only in that we had to touch and comfort each other through gentle caresses. He kissed my forehead and the tip of my nose then, making me urge him onward with tiny, grumbling sighs. I sought out his own skin, claiming his cheekbone and jaw with sweeping butterfly kisses.

I never wanted to stop.

When he finally, taking a deep breath, kissed the corner of my lips, I turned my face to his like a heliotrope flower facing the sun. And then, my arms were empty and stinging.

I faced the stars. He was silhouetted, a shadow; our frames were stiff with disquiet. "Edward, what is wrong?" I tried to focus on other, less important things, such as counting in Roman numerals. I did not want him to know me – truly know me – at that moment, for I felt as though he could see through me, see my _essence_, as I had seen him.

It terrified me.

In that single instant, I comprehended what he felt and sympathized. Feeling another's wild passions through a conduit is nothing compared to experiencing them yourself, because, although you suffer another's emotions and are able to pour out your feelings of loss and joy and wrath, you never ever fully comprehend it until it is your own sentiment. And though I had felt traces of similar emotions since our first meeting, never before did I understand Edward as I did at that moment.

So, when his burgundy eyes bore into me, and he whispered, "I can't. Just – not … not now. It is too soon", I was able to nod and take the information in passively. Though I needed to feel assurances through his touch and love, it _was_ too soon for anything to occur; our wounds had not yet healed and blistered in each other's presence.

This, I knew.

"Alright," I said. Then, I settled back against the angled stones and smiled grimly. Would it always be like this, so careful and worrisome? I hoped that soon we would no longer tread with cautious footsteps and cocked heads, ears listening for potential discomfort.

I weighed my words before speaking, and then saying every word slowly, watching his shadowed features. "We should talk. We need to talk, soon."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I know."

"Not now, though."

"Yes, definitely not now." Every emotion was very sharp and potent now; I did not want to tear the frail trust we had already established. Things had to be taken in small steps.

Edward quirked his lips. "I agree; we must start slowly, but not take baby steps." The sadness washed over me, weighing down my chest, and there was a slight tremor in his voice. "We only have a month left, after all. We must make the most of it."

Needing to bring the familiar humor and life back into his eyes, I narrowed my gaze. _Are you reading my mind_? I thought.

He chuckled, but it was not what I had hoped for: more solemn than anything else. The man had changed while he was gone; he was no longer a boy, but a grown man with mature problems. And I knew nothing of what had happened.

But I wouldn't ask. Not now, but maybe later, when the sun had risen and we were alone. It was the safest way.

Edward groaned and buried his hands in his bronzed locks. "Why is everything so difficult?"

"Because that is the way life works. You succeed through hard work or you fail because you never tried; things are not handed out on a silver platter."

He snarled lowly. "I know that, Jasper. I'm not an idiot."

I blinked. Where had the sudden mood swing come from? "I know that."

"Good."

"Why are you so tense?"

"Why am I so tense?" Leaping to his feet, he paced back and forth, gesturing wildly; his face was animated, so utterly alive, and I recalled the passionate boy he had been not too long ago. His fingers tore at his sloppy bangs.

"Why am I so tense, you ask?" He chuckled mirthlessly. "Maybe, it's because I've bound myself to a madman. Maybe, it's because I can't seem to know what to do or what to say when I'm around you. Maybe it's because I crave your presence, and it scares me. Maybe it's because I'm still guilty and worried and hopeless, because I am certain that Jane and Caius will use you against me. Maybe I fear that you could be captured and tortured.

"Maybe I still hate who I am, and yet here you are: a loyal, forgiving soul who cares for me. And though I care for you, I have found that I am undeserving; though we are alike and…" Freezing, he pivoted to face me. "Maybe I'm afraid that I've already said too much, and can't seem to stop."

I sent him a weak smile. He seemed so defeated. I rose and walked toward him, then tugged him back to the rocky hill. We sat on the same rock, facing the lake. He was residing near me, but the distance between our bodies screamed strangers. I didn't like that at all.

"I always say too much whenever I am around you. It's never a welcoming experience."

I gathered his limber form against my side and rocked him back and forth, back and forth like a lost child. I shushed him and brushed my lips across his forehead. "It is perfectly fine, Edward. Granted, it is not pleasant to listen to, but I would much rather hear them than not. Hush, and relax. We will worry about this tomorrow, when we must face everyone and tell them some explanation." He stiffed at that.

I crinkled my brow and combed through his hair, pressing him closer. "Relax. It doesn't have to be the truth." He did not like that, I could tell, and became restless and moody. Eventually though, hours later, he tentatively rested his face against my neck and breathed in my scent. I knew then that he was composed enough to face the world.

Smiling, I continued to comfort him. We were nowhere near where we had once been, but this – this was a start.

**x**

**x**

**x**

Crypress: silk or cotton gauze fabric, usually black

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know. It's boring relationship stuff, but I can't have them jump each other right off the bat, now can I? Well, I could, but … yeah. Eventually though. Promise. Anyways, Happy Easter everyone!**

**Reviews = Love. And that's all I can say about that.**


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**A/N: Aghhh! All beware, for I have returned from the grave! Yeah, I know. I suck. Anyways, I love you all, and I promised to finish this, so I'm back on it. Anyways, to try and make it up to you guys, I included a little scene I removed from the chappie at the very bottom :) Kudos to chach2990 for kicking my ass into gear - you rock! And now, onto the story...**

**Recap: **_Jasper POV: I sent him a weak smile. He seemed so defeated. I rose and walked toward him, then tugged him back to the rocky hill. We sat on the same rock, facing the lake. He was residing near me, but the distance between our bodies screamed strangers. I didn't like that at all._

_"I always say too much whenever I am around you. It's never a welcoming experience."_

_I gathered his limber form against my side and rocked him back and forth, back and forth like a lost child. I shushed him and brushed my lips across his forehead. "It is perfectly fine, Edward. Granted, it is not pleasant to listen to, but I would much rather hear them than not. Hush, and relax. We will worry about this tomorrow, when we must face everyone and tell them some explanation." He stiffed at that._

_I crinkled my brow and combed through his hair, pressing him closer. "Relax. It doesn't have to be the truth." He did not like that, I could tell, and became restless and moody. Eventually though, hours later, he tentatively rested his face against my neck and breathed in my scent. I knew then that he was composed enough to face the world._

_Smiling, I continued to comfort him. We were nowhere near where we had once been, but this – this was a start._

**Jasper**

_Wednesday, June 30, 1954_

When Tanya visited, she kept Edward preoccupied when he played the piano. She called out various songs she wanted to hear and lounged on the sofa, her curly hair spilling over her arms and back. Esme was quieter, will stand or sit nearby and listen without comment. Her eyes are shut, and a small smile lightens her face, though sadness tinges it. Alice and Rosalie listen sometimes, but not often. They'd rather shop and gossip than listen to the blues or classics. Carlisle will always praise his son whenever Edward plays for him, but that is rare, growing even more so; he remains in the hospital all day and his office most nights, pacing and pacing until daybreak.

His emotions were chaotic. They hurt my mind when I attempted to decipher them, and Edward told me that he concealed his thoughts. It is an oddity that we cannot seem to explain. And so Edward plays more often when Carlisle is about, trying to break through his mental shield. To his dismay, it is impenetrable.

Still, Edward played to entertain them; as he had told me a few days before, he was trying to fulfill everyone's needs, please them, give them enough memories before he leaves. He wants them to recall him with smiles and laughter, not as they had before. I lacked the heart to tell him that, no matter what he did, we would miss him all the same. I would miss him all the same.

One day, he confronted me on the matter.

"Jasper," he had sighed, rubbing his temples. "Jasper, stop."

I glanced up from my selection, and tasting his dolor as sea salt and copper, marked my spot, placed my book aside. "What is it?"

Edward then had shot me a such a look of loathing that my heart descended into my stomach, where it was tormented by burning despair and acid. In the blink of an eye, he was before me, his hands balled up into tight fists.

_Take a deep breath_, I thought, knowing that words would only further upset him. _Take a moment to collect your thoughts. I will wait._

I had to. What other choice did I have?

But slowly and surely, Edward regained his peace. His fists unclenched, and the furrows above his eyebrows smoothed; I exuded a slight calming to keep him steady, taking in his sorrow and terror. Then, he sunk down onto the plush carpeting and placed his forehead against my knee.

"I don't want to go back. I wish to stay here, as all of you do; I hear the way you all count down the moments, measuring them, marking them. It is too much!" His eyes, a rich auburn color, beseech me. "Please, don't allow your thoughts to tell me this too. If" - and he bit his lip, pausing slightly to weigh his words- "if you do ... then I won't be able to return, no matter the cost."

I held my breath. Then, I leaned forward to kiss him soundly. He groaned into my mouth, eagerly pushing me back in his greed, fingers touching my bare wrist and neck. We had not touched since that night, and it had taken a toll on us. I teased the edges of his shirt, ducking my fingers over and under the hem to caress the forbidden flesh; Edward voiced his pleasure and pulled me tighter. Our kisses then took on a feral, ardent edge as out passion spiraled out of control.

It took the last vestiges of honor to pull away from his willing body. His lips were swollen from our venom, and his face held a slight flush.

"Why?" he asked me then.

And I realized that I could not answer him. I imagined our loss of control, the regret, the arguments. _Because I don't want to loose you,_ I mused to him, afraid that someone might hear. _Because of the fallout. I won't allow that to happen; you're not ready yet._

"But neither am I a child!" Edward pulled away from me. He stood tall and proud, like a princeling; his jaw was tight, words fierce. "I _am _ready!"

"Just two days ago you were pleading me to stop because it was too much." I stood, paced. "Edward, you must learn to accept your limitations." _For you, the idea of being with me holds both an appeal and a repulsion; before we do anything more, you must learn to accept yourself, and me. _

"And if I can't?" He was juvenile in his sincerity. His worry assaulted my senses.

I pivoted and stepped to the door. Half-way out, I answered him: _Then this must end. _

**XXX**

_Thursday, July 1, 1954 3:56 P.M._

If there is one thing about Jane that I cannot stand, it is the aura of pain and bloodlust that surrounds her. A venomous child, she lacked the ability to give or receive affection without twisting it into some darker emotion; it was so very difficult to manipulate her. Love became lust, compassion became pity, and calmness became numbness ...

As though calling her, my thoughts seemed to draw the evil child to my side. Jane stared up at me coldly.

"Yes, Jane?" I asked.

She twisted her old fashioned pinafore, smiling wickedly. "I just wished to inform you that Edward shall be out with me tonight. We shall be very busy, so do not allow us to disturb you." Her facade turned mock-concerned; a tiny hand covered a rosebud mouth. "Oh my. Didn't he tell you? He knew as of last night."

I hummed in response, feigning nonchalance, burying my ire deep. Not at Edward, but at her, the monstrous child!

Jane chuckled. "_Oh_. So he didn't. My, my, my. It is not good for an instable relationship to be built on a rocky foundation; what will happen when he stops telling you these things, and then can no longer talk to you at all? Will you cry then? I hope you will."

"I'm sure you do, darling." With a touch of difficulty, my mask remained intact.

A spike of ire hit me; I recoiled from her pungent emotions. Almost daintily, in a ladylike manner, she perched on my bed and smiled prettily. "Oh, but I do! I really, really do; seeing you cry and broken in heartache would truly brighten my day." Pouting, she inquired, "Don't you wish to see me happy? If I'm pleased, then Aro shall be and he will allow Edward many more opportunities to see you."

The lie was nearly convincing, if not for her past. Paying her no heed, I waited, concentrating. A message. Then, I spoke: "Jane, would you leave me? I have errands to run before sunrise."

"I'm sure you do, love." Her lewd smile was out of place on such a young, fair facade, much like young prostitutes' eager words and quick hands.

"Would you allow me a moment?"

She shrugged, settling in against the bed. "Hmm, perhaps. Tell Esme about your deviant relationship and I'll further consider it."

"No."

"Then accept my presence."

"No." A slow, steady breath to reestablish my equilibrium, and I spoke. "I shall take my leave, and a good day to you." Far off, I heard the familiar whisper of Edward's path as he raced towards our new spot, past the house, past the meadow. Tucking my wallet inside my pocket, I nodded to a displeased Jane.

And then, I was off.

**XXX**

I met him among the rushes, near the other side of the lake, where white swans swam, diving and ducking for their next meal. His arms welcomed me, his presence soothing away all doubts. I leaned into his embrace, then reluctantly pulled away.

"Come," I teased, pulling on his hand. "Follow me."

In silence, I led him through the evergreens; his hand warmed mine, establishing a much needed connection. Through the ice-capped ranges we raced, into a deep-set valley where the mists hung heavy and thick and the mosses fell across boroughs in great, earthy festoons. A slice of golden light filtered through the branches, raining down upon our shoulders and filtering through the long grass; wildflowers dotted the meadow, white and purple, fragrant like the perfume of a young child's blood. I inhaled, deeply.

Edward's wonder assaulted me, bringing a new life to this enchanted garden. Though I had only been here a few times before, it was as though I was seeing it through his eyes. Lightly, he ran his hands through a cedar's long, mossy beard, eyes lilting on every aspect of the valley. His eyes hungered, and he sought out every niche and hill, every minute detail, until he was satisfied. Then and only then did he turn to ask me, "When did you happen across it?"

"Months ago," I vaguely responded, enchanted with the picture he made when dappled with sunlight. My eyes raked across his form, eternally fit in his youth, and I wondered if I might see him spread as a banquet for me one day, an assortment of glittering skin and bedroom eyes and plump lips. _Yes_, I decided, I would enjoy that _very _much. But not now. Not when he and I were still broken, in a certain fashion.

"Hmm." Like a cougar, he stepped around me. I felt his eyes search me.

And then he was kissing me, his eyes golden-lit and skin glowing bright, and he was oh-so pliant and willing in my arms. I drank in his sunlit kisses like they were manna, honey, life itself. They filled me, and I was drowning on his emotions - drowning in his love, lust, need - suffocating, and I didn't care. I never wanted it to end. My fingers played across his back, fingertips daring to dip beneath the waistband and play against warm, bare skin. Edward arched, gasping against my mouth, and responded with a new enthusiasm.

"Fuck, Jazz," he muttered, pressing his lips against my throat, and then a bit lower - and then, lower still. His mouth latched onto my collarbone, tongue soothing old wounds and scars. "You're so beautiful."

I wanted to correct him, I truly did, but the sensation of timid fingers tracing my erection drove all other thoughts from my mind. All but one: _shit__._

It was no small effort for me to push his hand aside. Tangling my fingers with his, I smiled weakly at his devastated expression; his rejection and fear urged me to lean forward and steal a sweet kiss from his parted lips. "Not yet," I whispered. "It's too soon, and I don't want to rush it."

"Oh." The pain was still fresh, I sensed. "Alright then." He shrugged, eyes averted. I sighed.

Pulling him close, I settled us on the moisture-laided grass and held him. He did not meet my gaze, and I marveled at how something so lovely and pure could be so easily broken. He clung to me like a child, his face pressed against the lapel of my collar; the sharp contrast between loving joy and aching sorrow left a throbbing void in my chest. I brushed his messy hair aside, kissing his high cheekbone.

"It's not as though I don't want it, Edward," I tried to explain. _Christ, do I ever want it, more than anything else, more than I wanted Alice _- he flinched at her name.

Oh. _Oh!_

Jerking his face up to meet mine, I smoothed the worry lines with my thumb. His eyes were cold, but his despondency heavy, flashing lightning-quick through his veins. With every few words, I pressed a brief kiss to his stern facade.

"I shall never, ever leave you, Edward. You are not a passing fancy, nor are you someone for me to manipulate and control ... I care for you, more than you know."

"I know." His voice was small. I shivered at his vulnerability.

I frowned. "Yet still you doubt it." _Oh, Edward! When will you learn? Alice was my wife, yes, and I did love her, but differently. It was more of a kindred affection we shared; my love for you runs much deeper than that._

In my embrace, he stiffened, and I realized that he had indeed been _listening_. Never before had I given voice to such a phrase, either in my thoughts or words; for a moment, I irrationally feared his insurmountable response. Rejection coiled, poisonous and heavy, in my gut. I swallowed.

He said nothing.

I continued, hesitantly, softly. "I ... Edward, things were different between Alice and I. We bonded over similar experiences, and grew to love one another." His amber eyes turned to harsh slits, and I wondered if I was even doing any good or simply making the situation increasingly dire.

"It is possible to love many people, you know."

Edward sneered up at me. "I know, _alright_? Stop treating me like this! I'm _not _seventeen anymore!" His havocked state shook me, and I curled in my tendrils of power, retreating from the painful chaos whirling within his heart. His fingers pressed heavily against my biceps as he rose and stalked away. My arms were cold and empty. Folding in on myself, like a growing, helpless fetus, I wallowed in my consuming dolor. Edward paced in front of me, lighting-quick.

"Listen, Jasper, I have things to do. I'm leaving tonight." And when his stone-grim eyes held no regret, no compassion, I knew that he needed to leave. Better yet, I knew that I ought to let him go. If I was a better person, I might have; but I was a jealous old soul who only held his desires in mind. I had no self-preservation, and I was tired of letting my wants fall aside for another's. I loved him, a drug of the heart-stopping, self-sacrificing brand. The type where your lover's interests are much more important than your own, and without them there is no light or laughter or joy in the world's simplest moments. They are your sole felicity.

Edward was my joy. And because of this, I would wait.

I felt as though, within the few moments, I had aged a thousand years.

Seeing Edward in a new light, I fully witnessed his many flaws, which had hidden away behind an ardent passion. Yes, I did love Edward much, much more than Alice, but I also saw him more fully than anyone else. He was a surly, impatient child feigning expertise; he loved as passionately as he despised; he was creative, morose, empathetic, and understanding; he was captured in the tidal wave of adolescence and adulthood, frozen without a way to age.

Coveting my most private thoughts, I hid behind a mask; I dared not know what he would think of my musings. I nodded singularly, then kissed the corner of his mouth, curved and still warm from our swift passions. "Fine. Just ..." I inhaled, planning my parting phrase. "Just come home. Safe. Whole. And ... I will miss you."

His eyes ran molten amber once more. "I know. Me too."

"Mmm." He began to move away then, but I grasped his forearm and pulled him tight against my body. "Not yet. First ..." And I dropped a kiss onto his lips, which tasted of honey and lust and anger. Like a blossom, he unfurled his arms, twining them about me as though they were ivy, and accepted my ministrations eagerly. His lips parted, and I tasted his tongue and palate softly, like he was made of fine china or fine damask; Edward sighed, melting into the kisses. When he finally pulled away, his lips were bruised and reddened. I was ... satisfied to see my mark upon him, though it would fade away eventually.

"Go," I whispered. "Go now, so you may return sooner."

Edward pressed my hand to his heart. "I will."

**XXX**

_Friday, July 2, 1954 5:34 A.M._

"Jasper, you need to go find Edward. Now."

Alice watched me helplessly, eyes solemn and wide, face ashen. I jumped to my feet, rushing out my room, through the hallway and burst through the door. I felt as though I was taxing my powers, yet at the same time unable to push myself far enough - I needed to be swifter, now! Through our meeting places, I rushed, calling to him with both voice and thought.

_Edward! Edward, where are you?_

But no one answered my needy queries.

A half-hour later, I managed to catch a trace of his scent and followed it through the ravine, up a cliff top. When I found him, it was nearly dawn, and he was huddled up against a snowdrift; his long limbs curled around and his chin resting on his knees, eyes squeezed shut. His expression was pained; his self-loathing burned painfully inside me. His clothing was torn, denims ragged and shirt mere shreds. Hesitantly, I reached out a hand.

His eyes snapped open. And I saw red. _Blood _red.

Oh.

"Don't say anything," Edward cautioned, drawing back against the glittering snow. "_Don't_."

Nodding once, I settled beside him. It seemed that once more Jane was corrupting him; at every opportunity she provoked his ire, and now she was demolishing his morals, either to further bind Edward to the Volturi or to drive us, his family, away from him. They would not be able to house a true vampire, uncivilized and uncultured, for a long period, and if Edward would be physically unable to convert, he would leave.

And I would follow.

"No." Edward spoke softly, his words flushed with guilt. "You mustn't leave because of me. This was my choice, Jasper, not yours, or Jane's. It's mine." A shiver wracked his lithe frame. "One day, I will return to the Volturi, and then you must learn to forget me until such a time when we can be together."

Gently, I smacked his shoulder. Inside, though, I was _terrified_. "Edward, don't speak of these things; we have time."

"Not nearly enough."

"Hush. Cut the gas." Somehow, I needed to distract him from his shamed hatred... Breathing deeply, I spilled my thoughts to him. _Edward, listen to me._ He paid me no heed. _Please. Listen._

He exhaled, playing with the torn strips of cloth. Disquieted. "I am."

_Good. Edward, you've not yet moved away from human blood; hell, I would certainly fail if a human was placed before me and I was athirsted. You are simply ... human, and humans stumble. We fall. _

"But I do not want to be a monster!"

Recoiling, I snapped, "So was I a beast for feeding on humans?"

Edward curled in further on himself, like a child mimicking fetal positions. His jaw tightened, eyes hard red rubies. "No."

"Then how are you a monster?"

"Because you never knew better! I knew that it was _immoral_, and yet I butchered another, and I heard her dying screams, and I enjoyed it! I _enjoyed_ it, Jasper!" His fists beat a cadence against the moist snowfall. His eyes glimmered with venom, a sneer rendering his face hostile. "Don't you _understand_ that?"

Breathing deeply, I slowly responded. "Yes I do. But I did know better." Oh God, please let him listen! "Years ago … when I was but a child in both your eyes and mine, I met someone … a man, who tried to convert me to his ways. He was … kind, and gentle, a man from England who only wished for another to listen.

"I came across him while gathering the newborns for Maria. Back then, it was so difficult for me to control the masses; I struggled to keep groups of three or four newborns content, and was exhausted by the time Maria's sisters returned, always bearing new allies, new blood for the armies. I … I left then, and ran to the city." I smiled sadly. "We controlled the population there. Killed numerous enemies, and all so that we could feed, the gluttons that we were, two or three times a night.

"I was onto my second victim, a man of nineteen years, his blood cultured and sweet, but not over ripened with age." I sighed. Edward was enthralled in my story, his mouth still tight, but his mind open. With a heave, I continued.

"And, once I had finished feeding, he came to me. He questioned me, asking me why the young had to die while I lived, and why I did not repent, turn to the Lord, and feed off animals. I called him an imbecile. I said that it was stupid to believe in a god when I had become this … creature. I sent him off, saying that I was merely following natural order; I was the supreme species, and I hungered. Why not take my fill? In my mind, at that time, I was an epicurean, not a monster."

Edward squinted, and I felt his emotions twist. Quickly, I finished: "But now, I know better." Then , softer, "He was right."

Uncertainly, Edward said, "That man … he was Carlisle, was he not?"

I nodded, gathering him close. "Yes," I breathed against his skin, "he was."

Dazedly, my lover pressed his fingers against my lips and jaw. I kissed them. "That might explain a few things."

"Oh?" Why should I care? Edward was here, safe and seemingly content in my arms!

"Yes," he gasped.

"Alright." I kissed his palm and wrist. In my embrace, he wiggled uneasily; I grinned knowingly. "Now, darl'n," I said, slipping into my native accent, "why don't you come here and give me some sugar?"

Edward gave a strangled laugh. "Jazz, don't ever, ever say that again!"

"Why not?"

"Just don't. It was nothing short of terrible porn movie." Edward muffled a groan into his arm. "But _fuck_, your _thoughts_!"

Oh, I could imagine. I was a horny vampire who had seen and heard quite a bit, and I just happened to have an sexy lover. And though I wished … not now. It would not do to tempt fate, the fickle mistress that she is.

But Edward did not know this. He leaned forward, and as the sun rose, we kissed. I drank in his sounds as though they were honeyed wine, savoring his taste … slowly, slowly, as to not disturb the slight peace. My hands bunched in his torn shirt, caressing bare skin by chance. On the edge of the blade we danced, and when we fell, it was into the abyss.

A crack, heard off in the distance. A soft cry, like a whisper of wind. _No, no, no_.

We broke apart, hands still grasping, lips swollen and eyes dreamy. Our eyes met, the same worries passing through our minds.

"Who?" I asked in a breath.

My lover's eyes narrowed. "I … I don't know. They're shielding their thoughts …"

"Fuck!" I dashed the ground with my foot, and Edward rose to his feet. _We need to get home, now._

"I know."

**XXX**

_Monday July 5, 1954_

For days, nothing occurred. There were no more odd looks or pauses than usual, though I did sense odd emotions from certain members. But even those could be explained away …We began to lose caution, we still had not met outside of the house. Instead, we played chess or read books, but nothing else to arouse suspicion. At night, Jane called Edward away to her side, and he would always return, broken a little bit more.

Today though, Esme stole away to my room, her footsteps light and quick. When I arrived home, she was there, fiddling with the threads of the bedspread. Her guilt and anger swept through me, and in an instant, I _knew_.

Biting her lip, she began, speaking to the floorboards. "Jasper … I need to speak with you. It concerns Edward."

"Oh." What else could I say?

"Yes, I know. Please ... please, could you - would you accompany me through the hills?" Then she shook her head, a sorrowful smile gracing her façade. "No … I mean…" She took a deep breath. I had not yet moved.

Another steadying breath and the stillness broke. "I know. About you and Edward."

**x**

**x**

**x**

**Removed Scene #1:**

**Edward**

_Thursday, July 1, 1954 4:15 P.M._

How could his kisses make me so … so … forgetful? It is as though he lit fire to something primal and needy within me; hiding in the cavity of my chest, I always hungered more for his touches when he pressed against my side or gave me 'The Look'. I mean, I had seen it before, when lusty men stared at sweet talking, long haired, chrome-plated women.

I gasped at the intent, still hearing the resounding thoughts … _undress … banquet of skin … eyes … lips … one day … mine, mine, _mine_! Fuck, so hot, so sexy, and mine. Yes, more, wanna have you … touch me, my cock … I'll jerk you off, lover, only if you come loudly. _Jasper may speak politely, but his inner thoughts were nothing short of filthy.

And, oddly enough, I enjoyed the slight roughness behind it. Hell, my arousal had jumped to a new level when he had lost the careful control, when he treated me as a man, not a soft, fragile woman, when he had yanked me closer and devoured my mouth like he would die without the taste of my tongue.

Shit. I sighed, trying to imagine anything that might kill my excitement. Rosalie and Emmett, fucking on my car last year; my old undergrad professor, who had a thing for men a third of her age, in her undergarments, Tanya, trying to kiss me months ago.

Fists gripped at the tree's bark. Why wouldn't it _disappear_? My dick was constricted; it should know better! After all, after decades of viewing hormonal boys trying to hide their own stimulated pricks and miserably failing, I should have learned something, anything!

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_! Just … just go _away_!

Shit.

This wasn't working.

Taking deep, calming breaths, I willed away my erection, focusing on the pain of its compression and the harsh denim. No, not the denim - too much friction. Think: the pain, and Jane's meeting. Yes, yes, awful, wicked Jane and Aro's odd leers; focus, focus and …

Gone.

I slumped against the tree. Thank _God_. Hell, thank whatever deity may or may not exist out in the universe!

Once Jane has completed her plan, I'm taking a cold shower. Fuck Jasper and his talented mouth. _Oh_ …

Shit. It's back.

**x**

**x**

**x**

Chrome-plated (adj): dressed up

Cut the gas (v): be quiet


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**A/N: And ... we're back! Thanks to chach2990 for betaing :)**

**To those of you who were waiting for a little action, here it is! I title this ... the smut chapter.**

**Reviews = Love :)**

_Recap: Today though, Esme stole away to my room, her footsteps light and quick. When I arrived home, she was there, fiddling with the threads of the bedspread. Her guilt and anger swept through me, and in an instant, I knew._

_Biting her lip, she began, speaking to the floorboards. "Jasper … I need to speak with you. It concerns Edward."_

_"Oh." What else could I say?_

_"Yes, I know. Please ... please, could you - would you accompany me through the hills?" Then she shook her head, a sorrowful smile gracing her façade. "No … I mean…" She took a deep breath. I had not yet moved._

_Another steadying breath and the stillness broke. "I know. About you and Edward."_

**Jasper**

_Monday July 5, 1954_

Breathe.

"What do you mean, Esme?" Though she was neither blind nor stupid, perhaps she was like most mothers, searching for beautiful lies that would convince her of something - anything; anything but the truth -other.

Drawing deep within myself, I felt her disgust, apprehension, and disapproval, both wretched to the senses, and beneath it all - hope.

Exerting a small effort, I nurtured the last emotion, letting it slowly grow within her. Not so much that it would be noticeable, but enough that I could come out of this conference intact. Slowly, slowly, I fed it …

Before me, she ran her hands through her elegant waves. Purple shadows crested her eyes. She had not hunted.

"Don't be dishonest with me, Jasper. I-I saw _you_. With _him_." She looked away.

"Esme," I began, attempting to smooth the disruption, "Edward and I are friends; of course we spend time together. Is that a problem?" I added, frowning slightly.

"Stop lying! You were _kissing_ him! My Edward!"

A flutter passed by the trees outside. Perhaps it was Rosalie, who would stop by from time to time, or Carlisle, who would retreat to his den for hours.

Closing my eyes, I closed my mental barriers; her passions were too strong, and I needed to remain levelheaded. "Yes, I was."

"_Why_?"

My fingers pulled at the fringe of my sleeve in a piss-poor attempt to distract myself. "Because," I said, "I care for him." The words tasted sweet, the moment sharp, and her emotions were bitter, almost like the taste of fear. Brill

Esme settled close to my side. I slit my eyes to watch her.

Her eyes were glassy, mouth a torn slit. Condemnation radiated from her every fiber, and I did not need to possess Edward's talent to know her thoughts. _You seemed to care for Alice, _she seemed to say, _but look where she is now. What will you do to my darling boy? You seem to care now, but what about a few years from now. Will you tire and fade away?_

And I did not have the answers for her, not the ones she desired.

I took her hand in mine. It was smooth, cool as glass. "I love him," I whispered, "much, much more than I did Alice. He … he's like air to me, like summer, like a drug." My laughter was a hoarse, echoing sound. I thought of our time apart, and I shuddered. "I need him. And he needs me. And I think that, maybe, he might love me, too. I hope so, at least; though he is young, he has taught me so much of myself that I did not even know existed. Just his presence is enough to change me, make me into the person I want to be.

"I want to be someone whose there for him, to help him, protect him, listen to him. I want to be with him through both the good times and the bad, when nothing ever seems to go right. I want to complain and joke with him about how the wrathful gods are against us, and face them down with him. I want to be the one to see him while the rest of the world is sleeping, to ensure that the Volturi aren't irreparably harming him. If I can stop them, I want to be the one to try." Staring at my shredded sleeve, I gathered my thoughts. Then, I told the most difficult truth.

"I don't know how long this will last; ask Alice if you wish. She's the fortune-teller. What I do know is that, until he leaves me, I shall be his. I assure you, this is no passing fancy; many months I have pondered on this madness, wondered, and still I have no concrete conclusions.

"I don't expect your compassion, or your immediate trust; if my own mother was alive, I am sure she would be as skeptical as you are now, if not more. It's uncommon and strange and our relationship is indefinable … I … I'm just asking that you try to accept it. Please."

Still as stone Esme sat, many long minutes passing. She seemed somewhat satisfied, but troubled ... after a period, she rose, kissed my brow, and walked away. A door closed. I heard the wind of her sprint.

I awaited Edward's arrival.

**XXX**

Within an hour of Esme's disappearance, I heard yet another approaching vampire. Then, I heard the familiar footsteps on the patio, the quick draw of breath, and I knew that Edward had returned.

He crept outside my door, listening, weighing his options. I watched through the window, staring at the expanses of green. What would he say, to my exposing our relationship once more? He had never said that he wanted the others to know, and yet I had confessed, told Esme the extent of our relationship! I worried, messing my fingers together to try and stay still.

I heard him enter, felt the slight breath of wind as the door opened; my fear peaked, and I struggled for the words to say, how to tell him…

When he stood behind me, hands tugging at mine, I finally turned around.

His stare burned me. He looked as though he wanted to attack me, or as though he wanted to … _devour_ me.

My mouth felt dry. I shook.

"I heard," was all he had to say, and I _knew_. And then he was kissing me, his mouth needy and hot; he fisted my shirt, pulling me closer. I did not need his eagerness to part my lips and accept his tongue, nor did I need his emotions to tell me of his pleasure. It was a fluid understanding: all abstract concepts and gray space.

Edward lifted his lips away from mine, shifting to press wet kisses against my neck. "Thank you," he said between each, young enthusiasm coaxing his body onward. I felt his erection against my thigh and, unthinkingly I presses against it.

Edward moaned.

I was addicted to the sound. I gave pressure once more, and this time he thrust against my body. I felt his vitality, his youth, his masculinity, and I reveled in it all. I tasted his slick venom on my tongue; needing more, I pulled his mouth back to mine and darted my tongue into his warm cavern.

God. There … there is no way to describe how it feels - to have someone you love, who loves you … who makes you hard and could make you beg, who physically connects with you …It's unbelievable. It's hot. It's never enough. It's sublime.

His lips were chapped and his tongue was wet and I drank him in, in the way only a lover can, and we clung to one another, tumbling into the bed, touching boldly as time passed, and we -

I jumped away from him when the door swung open, falling off the edge of the bed. A growl grew within me, and when I twisted to see the intruder, I forced myself to calm.

A deep breath, and my emotions were squared away. Edward spoke first, and I turned to watch his reaction. He looked a fright, his lips swollen and hair mused; but the boyish-shy smile charmed her still.

"Yes, Esme?" He played with the sheets, embarrassed, maybe a tad ashamed. He had not eaten enough to flush (I made a note to convince him to feed).

The woman blinked, her gaze darting away from us, quick as an child's lie. Her fingers played with her apron, and I realized where Edward had learned the habit, through whom I had picked it up.

"How long will you be here tonight, Edward?" she asked softly. "Would you like to join us for the hunt?"

I placed urgency and hunger in his heart, knowing that he needed his family and their support, and better memories of running and feasting; he needed some lighthearted fun to brighten the dark path he traveled. I coiled it close, so that he would have a quick reaction.

He glared at me.

"Stop it," he hissed into my ear. "I'm perfectly fine!" He turned to Esme, shooting her a rueful smile. "Though I would like to join in, I do have some other matters that will preoccupy me. Would it suffice if I joined you at dawn?"

Esme tucked a curl behind her ear. The gesture was quite elegant—until her next comment. "Of course. We shall await you by the east mountains, and try not to… tarry, dear."

And she smirked, a slight, humorous sort of smile. Beside me, Edward cleared his throat, his cheeks unable to warm without stolen blood. I looked away.

"Yes, mother. I'll see you then."

Once the door shut, Edward chuckled; I looked on as though he was mad.

"What is it?" I questioned, rejoining him on the bed. My fingers combed through his auburn locks, and I savored his easy grin.

"Esme." He shook his head, pulling me on top of him. "She thinks … well, she's a bit worried that we may have …" He made a quick, rude gesture with his hands.

"O-oh! So maybe that's why …" _She wasn't awfully friendly towards me this afternoon. Very protective, and awfully cautious._

Edward's eyes crinkled in amusement. He threw back his head and burst out in laughter, and I looked on at this man-boy beneath me, who delighted in the oddest things. How could I not love him?

Suddenly, the laughter tapered off, and Edward was intense, solemn. I frowned, trying to track his emotions, but—

He was fervently kissing me, his hands locked in my curls, curving over my shoulders, and I matched him, lying between his parted thighs, rejoicing in the union. When his fingers began to stray to my collar, he pulled away.

"You know," he said casually as he began opening the buttons of my shirt, "Esme likes you. A lot, actually. She's just nervous that I'll be another Alice."

I stilled his hand, capturing his attention."But you won't be."

Edward shrugged. "I know. But sometimes, when someone loves you, they worry, and Esme can worry an awful lot. In the end though, she trusts my judgment, and she cares for you, too."

"I will never betray you."

His eyes were soft, gentle. Accepting. "I know that, too."

I was staggered by his complete trust, almost unable to believe it. I swallowed back the query though, unsure of his reaction; I didn't want to know. Not yet, at least. "Mmm… but I do have a question for you."

"Shoot." He kissed my neck, folding away more of the starched shirt. My cheeks heated. I swallowed, and knew that he was smiling against my skin.

"Where did you get all this courage from? A few days ago kissing seemed off limits, and yet here you are, pushing me past my comforts!"

Slowly, he drew back; he asked me, "Is this too much?" and I answered shakily, "No. It's not."

It was a near thing, though. He made me nervous, and cautious, and I didn't like that. I couldn't stop the way his body made mine react, or how my breath hitched when he began pushing the boundaries, which we had established for a perfectly good reason; I couldn't stop the way I needed him, almost like a drug. It terrified me—with Alice, things were easier, less complicated. Less committed.

But with Edward …

He captured my earlobe between his teeth, stealing my attention. "Stop thinking," he instructed, exposing one shoulder. His thumb smoothed the scarred flesh.

I sighed, and I did not know if it was from pleasure or stress or both. Edward's eyes were dark, like molasses, and heavy lidded. And I smiled; I kissed him soundly, tasting his soft sounds and skin like an epicurean.

Somehow, it soothed me to see that I held him in my thrall as much as he enchanted me.

**XXX**

_Monday, July 12, 1954_

It was strange to believe how cautious we had once been, always running and hiding. Exposing our relationship to Esme gave us many opportunities to lounge together, discussing many things—except Edward's imminent departure. Slowly, we became less cautious; our days were never spent apart, as I always had his emotions on radar and he always sought my every thought. Our nights involved at least a portion of time devoted to relearning each other's limits and minds and bodies, though Edward was always cautious in that respect.

And so was I. Though it had been easy for me to cleanse him of his transgressions, I still would hesitate to touch him, reconsidered bridging the gap between our bodies. We were slow to touch and taste, terrified of chasing the other off.

It had been a week since Edward had returned. Things weren't as easy as I had hoped; issues erupted constantly, and we crept around each other, walking on chipped sea glass and porcelain. I hated it.

Now, Edward lay beside me, a fair distance apart. He looked like Adonis, his body sculpted with passionate care, and tiny droplets of water clung to the hollow of his throat and dripped off his skin. He was nearly naked, lips wet and dark. God, how it reminded me of _that_ night, so long ago, when I had my hands on him and made him gasp and buck and moan; he was as bare now as he had been then. The images made me bite my lip and shift; just thinking about it made me harden!

Fuck, I wanted nothing more than to grasp at his hand, to pull him closer and bury my face in his neck and scatter teasing kisses along the marble column of flesh … but I instead bit my lip and resisted. I pulled at my shorts, hoping for some minute comfort.

He had to make the first move. I had to remind myself of the fact.

He had to.

He had to.

He would … eventually. Right?

His emotions sifted and shimmered, like granules of sugar under the microscope. They were briny and savory - doubt and longing - layered over with the ever-present bitter-sweet flavor. Venom flowed, as the taste was rather similar to coppery elk blood, and I stifled an agitated groan.

"Just take control, Jasper."

I blinked once. Slowly. "What?" Did I even dare to hope that I had interpreted him correctly or had not hallucinated?

Edward sighed and shifted. His lips parted in a toothy half-grin, eyes shadowed and ardent. "I know what you're thinking; you've lost your touch."

"I'm distracted," I murmured. With trembling fingers, I traced the edge of his lips, feeling the silky texture press back gently. Edward reached a single hand up, I believed, to stop me - but instead he drew my fingers closer, breathing whispery kisses against the tips, and then dragging my middle finger into the warm cavern, his lips beautifully stretched around it.

Rooted to the ground, my mind raced even as my erection grew. I knew what I had to do, even though it pained me; I had to do the right thing. Edward was too inexperienced. He didn't know what his actions did to me.

I took a bracing breath in a poor attempt to regain equilibrium. My voice was husky. "Edward," I began, "stop. You don't know what this-"

"—does to you? Actually, I do. It is astounding what you can learn in the company of the Volturi. They can easily become a group of sex-starved fiends after the high of blood." His ruddy eyes locked onto mine. I stared back, entranced. "I want this, Jazz," he whispered, caressing my cheek. "I do, and I think I'm ready."

In the next instant I was straddling his hips, feeling his eagerness against mine, my hands twined with his. I held him to the earth and kissed along his jaw, up from his collarbone. His fists pushed against mine, keen to touch.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." It was half a plea, half an argument. His hips jerked spastically.

I leaned backwards, scooting forward to his waist. I made patterns against his bare skin, watching the condensation slide off his abdomen. "Do you understand what this entails?"

"Yes."

I hummed, the corner of my lip quirking in a ghost smile. Then I brushed my lips against the hollow behind his ear, the corner of his mouth, the other side. When I had nearly reached his lips, eager and hot, I pulled away, standing and pivoting to face the lake.

"No." A body molded to mine. Edward pressed against me, molding to my shape. I leaned back into his embrace, luxuriating in the brief moment.

"Stop it. You are acting like a tease; I know you want this. I want this. So" - he yanked me back into his bare chest, fingers digging into my hips, and I felt him hard and ready once more - "stop this half-assed seduction and give in."

Chills spirited down my spine. I hissed when his teeth scrapped across my neck. "You're not ready yet," I gasped.

"The hell I am!"

"Then prove it."

As soon as the words left my mouth, Edward crushed himself against me, twisting around so that his lips devoured mine and his fingers tore at my button-down. Tiny buttons clattered against the pebbly shore, a few splashing into the shallows. I moaned into his mouth, forcing him backwards into the lake until we were nearly submerged. My jeans weighed heavily against my hips, and I wished nothing more than to shed them and slide bare against his fair body. His fiery eyes consumed me.

_Fuck, Edward!_ I needed to tell him to slow down; he was already teasing the waistband, dipping his fingers shallowly underneath and urging me to reciprocate. It was an effort to pull away, my mouth red and plump as I begged him to stop. _Just - wait, Edward, you're going too fast; stop, stop, _stop_!_

And thank God. He did stop.

His fingers danced away from my open zipper, away from my half-exposed cock. Quickly, I hid myself away and pulled my torn shirt tighter to retain some semblance of decorum.

He buried his face in my neck, hugging me close. I tried to sooth him with coos and touches, but to little avail.

"I _heard_ you!" he cried out in frustration, arching his body to fit against mine. "But I heard your thoughts! You wanted this, you _did_." And then, softer: "I thought you did."

I sighed and gathered his boyish body closer, tugging him back towards shore. He was mentally and emotionally exhausted; throughout the week - Hell, throughout our time apart - he had been plagued by my wants and his needs and double-thoughts. I knew he needed this too (God, how his lust made everything all the more potent!), but now was too soon. You couldn't force yourself to do something. Edward was still too conflicted, and I did not wish to rush this and face regrets. He was still so _new_ to this, even more than I was.

I shushed him and urged him to replace his shirt, ignoring how his muscles and limbs stretched provocatively when he struggled into it. Like a child, he glowered at me.

"You're being utterly ridiculous," he snapped, twisting away from me. "And I am _nothing_ like a child."

Shit. I hurriedly concealed my thoughts.

"Anyways," he continued, rising and crossing his arms over his clothed chest, "how are you sure of my reservations? Perhaps you are the one lacking the initiative, or maybe you've blinded yourself because of my inexperience. Well, let me tell you, Jasper, I have seen and heard more than many twice my age."

In an instant, we were chest-to-chest, eyes smoldering. "I don't doubt that you have seen much," I said. "Surely your time in the alleys and thieves' holdings has taught you little of importance, but" - I hushed his protests by pressing a finger against his lips - "truly experiencing war, famine, and pain are different from hearing it in another's thoughts."

Wrenching my hand off his mouth, he spat back, "And what of the Volturi? Are they some harmless playthings to be ignored? If you feel that you can dismiss my past, then fine. I shall forever and always be but a child."

I sighed and shook my head. He never would understand: he was changed when he was but a child, and he would continue to be an impulsive, stupid seventeen-year-old boy; I vaguely remember being that age. Edward would continue to gain wisdom, but he would never put it correctly to use.

No, it wasn't his immaturity that bothered me. He was actually very mature for his age, to correct myself. I found the odd moments when his true age shone through endearing, though some what trying. It was more the fact that he seemed to view sex as a measure of adulthood; he knew that I had plenty of experience in that area, and he wanted to prove himself equal in merit. It was a childishly stupid idea, but I would entertain it all the same.

With a hand, I pushed him; he allowed himself to fall, sprawled on the dusky shore, skin glimmering among the damp pebbles and foam. His eyes were wide, lips curved in a question.

"You want to prove yourself a man? Then here is your chance."

I straddled him once more, softly whispering hummingbird kisses along his jaw and neck; I tore into his shirt, sending buttons cascading into the water, and laved his throat and. I stilled his hips and revealed in his every plea and sound, and I bit at his chest. My venom burned the marble skin, sending him thrashing beneath me. I stared up at him, and his dazed eyes met mine as his hands curled into my hair.

Like before, the situation was soon escalading out of control, and neither of us could stop the end course. It had finally come to pass, and if it was not now, it would be the next night, or the night after that. We were just two lovers starved of each other's skin and minds and hearts. It was inescapable, really.

Or so I told myself.

His nails carved into my back. "Oh, _fuck_, Jazz! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I bit down harder, teasing the sore skin with my tongue. Edward's hips thrust up against mine, so I urged his thighs open with my knee and pushed my leg against his hard cock.

Keening, he dragged me closer, humping my leg wildly, and I could not stop myself from responding in kind. His head was thrown back, mouth half-open and eyes half-lidded in pleasure - he looked like some ancient sex god. _Christ_, he was wanton and begging for debauchery; Edward was fucking offering himself, on a goddamn platter! I moaned. Loudly.

How could I, lacking the willpower of stronger, nobler men, resist such a sweet temptation?

Swinging his leg around my waist, Edward pushed me off him and onto my back; then, he was on me, tearing at the sleeves of my shirt and pushing me back to lap at my neck and run his artistic fingers over my chest and abdomen and rut against me, hard and fast. Our kisses were biting and frenzied like bloodlust as we rushed to the edge. My cock was suffocating, and I wanted nothing more than to loosen my jeans and tangle with Edward, the pair of us unclothed, unrestricted gluttons.

And then our zippers sounded, whining in mild protest at our intoxicated condition and future regrets. They slid carefully, wary of our overly aroused state. And then our jeans we off, and his flesh was hot and soft-over-hard in my hands; he began eagerly fucking my hand. He sounded, and I knew he wouldn't last much longer. Hell, I wouldn't last much longer, as his fingers had begun to shyly pet my cock; the innocence was strangely appealing, arousing me more than one could expect.

I threw him back onto the pebbled shore, and he complied, a willing victim to my machinations. We devoured each other, groping, biting, tasting. His skin was salty-sweet and he tasted like Jove's nectar. When I bit into his skin and tasted some of his inner fluids leak out, they were pungent-yet-sugary. Teasing the wound, I lapped at it and tore it with my tongue, and Edward jerked me closer to his stomach, where the odd, blood-like fluid ran thin and slow. He cried out, moaned, nothing more than an animal caught in the heat of passion.

And then - he jerked and shouted and hot, salty wetness spread across my hand, splattering the ground.

And I gasped as he teased the foreskin, teased my leaking, swollen prick, and stared up at me with satisfied, sleepy eyes, and - in a rush, I came screaming his name, collapsing into the sand. His hand fell away then, too inexperienced to know what to do, and Edward stared at the spunk, frightened; he gazed at his hand, as though seeing it for the first time.

I closed my eyes. Hush. Be still, my heart.

Breathing deeply, I welcomed the slight fatigue that enveloped me. He was … confused, and joyous, and regretful, and so many different things it made my head spin. I exhaled, focusing in on the moment, on the afterglow. Edward couldn't leave me, not yet.

He couldn't. Could he?

A body brushed against mine, and still I kept my eyes shut. But when a soft fabric wiped the mess from my stomach, I forced myself to gaze upon him.

Edward was quiet, face twisted in conflict, as he completed his task, and then he twisted to face me. He frowned; he softly asked me, "Do you regret it?"

"Some, but not all of it."

"Oh. Alright." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I think you might have been right. It's much different, afterwards; perhaps we should have gone slower." His stare fixed to mine, realizations making him gasp. "I mean, I didn't regret it - not that much, but … it would have been … it should have been…"

Like a lizard, I blinked slowly. "I know."

He nodded quickly. "Okay. Okay then." And I felt his understanding and relief; it was a balm to the soul, chasing away his regret and fear. But then worry entered.

"What is it?"

Edward blushed, as much as an underfed vampire could, and smiled coquettishly. "Does this mean that, well, you know …"

I wanted him to say it. Maybe it was to pressure him or to punish him, but I needed to hear those words from his lips. "Know what?" Laughter hid in my voice.

"That we won't be … doing _that_ anymore?"

At that, I did laugh, throwing my head back as it bubbled up from deep within. What a _silly_ boy! "Edward," I finally responded, "whenever you feel that you are ready, I shall try not to stop you." _Unless we are in the presence of others, of course._

"You ass!" I smirked, then began putting myself back together; Edward followed my lead. Within moments, we were dressed, though this time about I lacked a shirt. Esme would not be pleased.

**XXX**

Outside of our house, Edward and I parted with a few brief words and a not-so-quick kiss. Though he did need to hunt soon, we had decided that it would be better if we hunted apart, as our passions always broke free when we exposed our innate nature. Tonight, I would hunt … and maybe, tomorrow, we would talk.

He held me close, and I felt the words he was withholding. They burned between us, unvoiced and yet still heard. But how could we say them, even hint at them, when we were so unsure of the future? It would only cause distress.

Months ago, we sped past the idea of friendship, but now we dared not push our still-fragile relationship too far; kisses and conversations were fine, but those words …

I ached to hear them. I wanted to; even though I knew it would shatter me when he left.


	21. Chapter Twenty

**A/N: It's a MIRACLE! An update! Someone rouse the press ;) Chach2990, thanks for kicking my ass about updating. Repeatedly. Without your urging, there would be even fewer updates, if possible.**

**Recap: **_Outside of our house, Edward and I parted with a few brief words and a not-so-quick kiss. Though he did need to hunt soon, we had decided that it would be better if we hunted apart, as our passions always broke free when we exposed our innate nature. Tonight, I would hunt … and maybe, tomorrow, we would talk._

_He held me close, and I felt the words he was withholding. They burned between us, unvoiced and yet still heard. But how could we say them, even hint at them, when we were so unsure of the future? It would only cause distress._

_Months ago, we sped past the idea of friendship, but now we dared not push our still-fragile relationship too far; kisses and conversations were fine, but those words …_

_I ached to hear them. I wanted to; even though I knew it would shatter me when he left._

**Edward**

_Thursday, July 14, 1954_

Jasper's laughter was nothing less than beautiful. There was … abandon within it, a sense of barely-reigned freedom in it. I could always fall into a hazy half-awareness listening to him, knowing that he trusted me alone with his laughter; he gave himself to me, speaking without words.

And I heard. And I knew.

He tapped me on the shoulder, drawing me from my thoughts. "Are you in there, Edward?"

"No, of course not."I grinned, splashing lake water onto him.

Jasper huffed, pouting. To be honest, it was rather unbecoming on him; he stuck his lip out humorously too far, appearing ready to have a bluebird perch on it. He glowered at me.

"Laugh all you want, but someday, somehow, I will have my revenge." _You can count on it._

Leaning into the sand, I chuckled. "Surely you will."

And then, images—hot and racy—bombarded my mind: us, tearing off each other's shirts; him, mouthing my pulse point; us, unclothed, rutting like wild beasts. Blood-covered and wanton, like after the hunt. _Do you like that? I know I do._ A carcass lay at our knees. We shared the blood between kisses, feeding off one another's venom and blood and semen, like cannibals.

I sucked in a quick breath, shuttering my eyes briefly. _Fuck_. Jasper laughed at that, lowly. I luxuriated in the sound, replaying the images in my mind. My arousal had leapt to attention, and Jasper nuzzled my neck.

"You fight dirty."

"That I do, Edward. That I do."

**XXX**

As much as my human-side mourns Chicago, I loved Seattle for the rain. There is something so—so cleansing, so forgiving about the rain; as a child, I viewed it as a new Baptism, God's given tears to wash away my transgressions, the ills of the earth. I would cradle raindrops in the cup of my palms, feeling the water trickle between the crevice, cool and sweet and bitter-fresh. I would taste it, taking the worst parts of myself into my body, sins shed like another skin, leaving me as new as a babe. It tasted like wanting, or maybe spiraling trepidation.

And then, I grew up. I stopped tasting the rain, stopped believing. The change, so sudden, wiped the last traces of faith from my weary bones.

In my rebirth, I was Baptized in death, christened with blood. And I raged, a crazed, maddened animal; everything was _wrong_, so very _wrong_! I … I couldn't comprehend it. I didn't want to.

So I made my way through the brimstone path, killing and pillaging in my hometown, trying to sanctify it for others, trying to justify my own actions, which caused others ill. And I remembered. And I would try to forget, but I cannot forget anything - because my brain wasn't made that way. Everything hazy was illuminated, everything human banished.

When I returned home, I was sequestered in the wilderness for many years. South, where the rain rarely falls. Carlisle worked nights at the hospital, and Esme attempted to bond with me. Then we moved to Seattle, after Rose and Emmett joined our family, and all was well. I was … happy enough there. But then … it rained. And I remembered the hazier times. I smiled then, and all was well.

You see, in the rain, though I did no longer believed, I could forget.

**XXX**

Before me, the raindrops glanced off the window pane, coagulating and sliding down the glass. It was cool against my hand. I relished the sensation.

_Edward._

I did not turn. His footsteps were light and swift, bare feet lilting on the steps. I heard him at the door.

_Edward?_ Jasper touched the doorknob. I saw the room through his eyes: dark, lightning crashing beyond the window. A figure lit only by momentary brightness. _What are you doing?_

Answering him now, I sighed. "Nothing. Just watching the storm."

He made a noncommittal sound. I felt him at my shoulder, felt his eyes on my face. Searching.

"How was your run?"

He said nothing now. My fingers itched to touch him, to pull him close and simply feel him breathe beside me, while I still could feel his presence … Jane was outside. Listening. I felt her eyes blaze across my skin, marking me with her brand.

_Be very careful, Edward. You wouldn't want your lover to go missing, would you? Would you prefer that we never allow you to return to him? He will be dead, nothing more than a pile of ashes, and you will never fully realize his state. _

I nodded slightly. She would see.

_Good._

"Edward …" Jasper's hand was a welcome weight on my shoulder. I leaned into his warmth, cementing him to my side through sheer will; his powers would catch upon my needs: his words, his company, his kisses, his flesh.

I turned, caught in the echoes of his desires. "Yes?"

His eyes were steely, a heavy, blistering dun fueled by both ire and arousal. I swallowed. My eyes ducked.

Jasper's palm captured my chin as I began to turn away from him, back to the window where Jane—where my true life—stood. His mouth curled, displeased.

"Look at me." _Don't you try and hide away now. I know that you don't really want that, and neither do I._

I sighed. "Just leave me be, Jasper. I need some time to myself." To consider, to weigh the remainder of my time. I would not be returning to my family after this, that much was certain. Aro's task must never be fulfilled.

Lips thinning, his brow crinkled in thought. Raindrops drizzled from his hair, his clothes. His fingers were unusually warm against my cheek.

Then: "No." Softly, as though fearing rebuke, he hissed the word. I tasted it upon the tense air, knowing his commitment through the words-within-words. I heard his declaration (_I love you_), and I responded with one of my own.

"Jasper, I-I can't … I care … deeply for you, but …" Briefly, I closed my eyes, unable to bear his gaze. It was far too intense, smoldering with too many unspoken promises. And I knew that, if I asked him to voice the words, he would give body and being to them, tainting the air with their sorrowful intentions. And I knew that I would never be able to let him go, as I should, if he did.

His palm was smooth against the nape of my neck. He pulled me close, and I tumbled against him, pressed up against his chest. I breathed in his scent, laying my head against his shoulder. My breath beat a cadence. I tested my words, and finding them worthy, spoke.

"You are everything to me," I said, embarrassed at my first admission of love. "Jasper …" My fingertips brushed his damp hair, fluffing the drying curls. His forehead bent low to press against my neck; his words tickled, lips brushing against my skin.

"I know." _I can feel it_.

I dragged him closer, pressing against his chest. He had hunted while I was gone; I smelled the elk's blood, a potent cologne. "No," I persisted, kissing him gently. "No. You really don't know."

He made a soft sound of protest, but thankfully allowed the matter to be suspended, if only for the night. Urgently, his palm moved across the plane of my back, crossing the joints of my spine, caressing the mountains of my shoulder blades. He tasted slightly bitter from the blood, but underneath that, his venom was deliciously sweet.

Moving quickly, I straddled his thighs. Between kisses, I murmured, "How quiet do you think we can be?"

Jasper groaned. I swallowed his sounds, half-remembered gasps and harsh breathing. "Not quiet enough." _But if you dare stop, I'll kill you. _

"Will you?" I rolled my hip against his, biting his lip cruelly when our erections brushed. The pressure was _exquisite_. "Really?"

_Yes. Now shut up; I can't think much anymore._

Well, I couldn't either. I suppose it didn't matter how quiet we were any longer, but how quickly we could divest ourselves of our clothing.

In the end, we were far too loud (_God, do you two really need to get into it when I'm gossiping with Alice?_ Rose had protested) and it was far too quick. We lay lax against the bedspread, Jasper sprawled across my body. I relished his weight, the measure of security it provided my worrisome mentality.

When he kissed me afterwards, whispering sweet nothings into my ear, it was like a sort of benediction. It was even better than the rain.

**XXX**

_Friday, July 15, 1954. 1:56 A.M._

"Tell me about Chicago, Edward. Tell me more, about your family, your city and life." He touched my hand. _Please. I want to know._

I glanced up at him from beneath my lashes. Smirking, I queried, "Why?"

Jasper sighed. "You know why."

I huffed. "How about we have sex instead?" I was ravenous for his lean body and heated touches. Nothing warmed me like his afterglow kisses, lazy and still needy. They made me feel desirable, like Jasper could never have his fill of me.

"As much as I prefer your idea," _And how sexy you are all disheveled, _"I'm not letting you escape two nights in a row." _You can't always have your way, Edward. _

Lifting an eyebrow, I frowned. "I know this. I'm not a child, Jasper. I've already told you about my life, though."

He chewed his lip. His gaze darted away. Then, quietly, he said, "No, you haven't."

I said nothing. I bit the inside of my cheek, holding my tongue against the threatening torrent of words. What had I ever hidden from him?

_You … you never told me about your fiancée. _

Oh. _That_.

Inhaling sharply, I stood, striding away. The door slammed behind me.

Jasper did not follow.

**XXX**

"Jasper is worried about you." I ignored the uneasy voice. It was easy enough; her wind chime tones fell hushed beneath the babble of the stream. I steeped my fingers in the cool water, puncturing a hole in the summer ice.

She moved closer. Then, she sat beside me. "He thinks he said something wrong. He thinks you're angry at him."

"I'm not."

She shook her head, and her boyish curls swayed. "Edward, I know you're lying." _Stop being an idiot. Don't lose what I already have; already he has given himself to you. _

"I'm _not_ lying, Alice." I had not lied about any anger towards Jasper. I resented only that he learned of a useless, doomed truth that may, ultimately, cause problems. I hurled a chunk of slick ice at her head. She chuckled darkly and flitted away.

I growled. I bombarded her mental barriers, and with little effort, broke through her walls.

And I saw: _Jasper, his head cradled in his palms, fingers outstretched, waiting. For what, I could not discern, but he was alone in a pale room. The light filtered through the frothy curtains. I heard a bird somewhere off in the distance. Everything was hazy, as though concealed with fog._

_Suddenly, Jasper leapt from his settlement. I tasted his anxiety, and his fear, and his emotions were bitter-tart, curdling in my mind like sour milk. I entered the room—a small bedroom, isolated; I heard nothing but the shrieking of wild pigs—and crossed to meet him. _

_He turned aside._

"_Where is she?"_

_My mouth moved, unbidden, spilling the deliciously curdled words between us. They tainted the air. "With Alice. After all she has been through …" I shook my head. "She would be better off without me."_

_My lover tilted his head predatorily, mimicking hoary avians.__"Will you leave her?"_

_A beat passed._

"_I should. It would be the best for her.__Bella__doesn't realize how much danger she attracts." My lips quirked. "I should know. I should have killed her ages ago." My throat rippled. "She would be better off with that wolf, Jasper. At least he doesn't dread tearing her throat out. She could have a normal life, a family …"_

_Pivoting, Jasper drew close, but retained his distance. Enough to disparage our current relationship. He ran a hand through his messy curls and sighed. It was the sigh of Atlas, of Heracles, of Aeneas. I shivered at the sound._

"_Will you do me a favor?" I nodded. "Don't leave her." _It hurts too much to go on. _Then, he locked away his thoughts behind a solid barrier of sports statistics and little-known historical facts. But his eyes belied his inner turmoil, his smile always sad-tainted, his motions and words too practiced to be honest. Both of us, barely getting by, surviving with substitutes a pack of ravenous terrors and regrets separating us. They need each other _

No.

No! This would _not_ happen! I ground my teeth and refused to believe it, digging deeper.

And then a second vision rolled across the first, like a film. I saw it as though a movie: _Aro called me forward. I approached then, hearing the rasp of chains behind me. The haze was still there, obscuring all but Aro's face._

"_Ah, dearest Edward! I see that you have returned with a pet. I must confess that I am rather surprised at this outcome, despite Jane's forewarning."He grinned manically. _

_I tugged the chained man forward; his hand rested against the small of my back, trying to sooth me. I felt a clam drape over me, and I knew it was Jasper at my side. _

It's fine, Edward, _he thought to me_. Now, offer up my services under Aro's rule. He will never turn me away when I was so useful to Maria.

_And I spoke those words: elegantly, fluently, heavily practiced. I knew that I should have felt anything other than a detached calm, but Jasper locked my emotions away, lest I allow them to overwhelm me._

_It was all we could do._

No, Jasper could—would—_never_ enter my world. There was another way to protect Jasper. There had to be!

And then another: _"Do you remember when Alice snuck us away into the barn?"_

_I laughed, my entire body shaking at the memory. I shook my head. "You were so nervous, like a virgin."_

"_A virgin, was I?" He flipped me beneath him, nudging my thighs apart with his firm knee. "And what about you?"_

_Coyly, I kissed the corner of his mouth. "Perfectly composed, of course. You couldn't have expected anything less, Jazz."_

_My lover snorted. "'Of course' says he." His fingertips drew invisible circles on my inner thighs, slowly inching upward. My breath hitched._

_It was then that I abruptly realized that __in this vision__, I was naked, pressed against Jasper's marble body. The phantom__controlling me smirked and cunningly spread my thighs. My eyes beckoned him._

"_Aw, fuck, Edward!" Jasper swooped down to kiss me deeply, hungrily. I twined my tongue with his and arched forward, eager for more. He tasted of mountain lion. I grew ever more pliant beneath him, twining our fingers together, curling my leg over his, and drawing him closer. _

_And then his finger strayed, brushing against my nipples and, bypassing my cock and balls, he—I gasped, arching into the feeling— _

I tore myself away from the vision, breathless and aroused.

Alice watched me, her face a blank mask. "There is more," she said.

"I'm sure that I needn't see _that_." I hunched and wrapped my arms around myself. I didn't know what to make of the visions, especially the last. Though my body ached for it (oddly enough), my long-ingrained beliefs, my mind, rebelled against it.

"_That_ will happen, you know. Maybe not now, but someday."

"Even with the first vision?"

Alice sighed, resting daintily on a boulder. Her skirts bunched up in the tall grasses, and her hemline was streaked with mud.

"Of course. What do you think drove you and Jasper together again? Bella was able to do only so much for you. If you will choose her, one day, know that it will last only a short time; subsists never last long when one's real mate is known." _Like me. _

I hummed. There was nothing to say.

"Go to him, Edward. You will be happiest together, despite the current circumstances. And tell him; he won't care about the truth. He will love you all the same." She glanced away, unwilling to meet my gaze.

Rising, I thanked her. She ignored my farewell, only advising, "Let whatever happens, happen."

I confessed that I didn't like the sound of that.

**XXX**

Jasper was in the forest, near our burnished lake. A deer carcass lay at his feet, and I smelled the blood on his lips, in every puff of breath. Venom pooled in my mouth. I swallowed it down.

"Jasper," I called out.

He did not turn. _Edward_, he thought, more out of courtesy than desire to greet me.

I sat beside him, folding my legs beneath me. This close, I sensed the nearly imperceptible tensing in his muscles, a trait from is soldiering days. I waited.

And he said nothing, too stubborn to speak first, too concerned to say the wrong thing. He wouldn't address me, I was sure, until I had brought forth the answers he desired.

So, I told him.

"Long ago," I began, weaving my fingers together, "when I was younger and dreamed only of joining in combat against fellow men and was blind to others' wishes, I was engaged. Her name was Charlotte. She was thirteen, and I was nearly fifteen; and we were both children who wanted nothing to do with one another.

"My mother feared that, on account of the war, there would be few eligible ladies whose fathers would consent to marriage, so she arranged for her friend's daughter to marry me just after my eighteenth birthday, if the war was not finished. The friend heartily consented, worrying for her own daughter's fate if the young men all went to war by the time she was sixteen. And so the date was set.

"We could not stand one another." I grimaced at the memory. "It was hate at first sight: she was the obnoxious brat and I was the conceited, good-for-nothing boy. Until one January, when she was fifteen.

I drew in a long breath. Jasper said nothing, listening attentively to my tale. I—this part was always the most difficult, the reason why I drew away from Rose when she first joined our family. She reminded me wholly of Charlotte: a lovely, hearty creature, broken.

Jasper leaned against my side. I took in his silent support and finished my tale. Alice's confident words resonated through my mind, granting me much needed courage.

"I was on the way home. It was almost ten at night and the snowfall was great that evening, so great that it would have been dangerous to drive, had I owned a car. I passed by an alleyway and I … I heard some noises …"

_A girl, crying out, her skirts tossed over her face. A man, thrusting into her. Another two, knives held aloft. The statacco of flesh pounding into flesh. I stumbled, the cold snow chilling my fingers. The skirts__yanked down, and there was _Charlotte_, sobbing, begging me to helphelphelp _please_!_

"And it was Charlotte. A man was raping her, his companions eager beside him. They had knives. And … I fell, slipped on a patch of ice. They heard me and threatened me''.

_The men approaching. Their blades glittering in the dim moonlight; their menacing grins stretched thin over their faces. Unable to move when they drew closer, unable to fight when they struck out. Unable to do anything but run, to escape. The c__ease__ of gunfire. _

"And I left. I _left_ her."

"_No, Edward! Please, please don't leave me! _Please_!"_

"I left her, Jasper. I … I wasn't a good man—I'm still not—"

Warm arms surrounded me, choking me of my words. I dared not meet his gilded gaze, leaning into his embrace. He kissed my temple, and a wave of calm swept through me. I relaxed.

"Shh, Edward," he crooned, peppering my face with soft kisses, "it's all right. You made a mistake; you were scared. It's okay, Edward—"

Shaking him off, I buried my face in my palms. "No. It's not fine."

Jasper said nothing for a moment. Then, he moved to straddle my lap and lifted my chin, cradling my cheek in his hand. His eyes flared brilliantly. Flushing, my eyes darted away. Thanking whatever entities existing that I was not human, I bit my lip. Surely, if I were, my heartbeat and anxiety would betray me.

Already, I felt him prodding at my barriers, twisting and slanting my emotions. "Jasper," I warned.

_You need this. Shut up and let me work._ Embossing a venom-kiss on my pulse point, he broke through my frail boundaries; he bolstered me with false courage and empty jubilance. With my power, I was able to sense the subtle difference.

Jazz settled heavily into my lap. When he kissed me, his passion carefully reigned, it was more a sign of comforting support than anything else.

He sighed against my jaw. "You know that I would never hold you accountable for past mistakes, Edward. You were only a _child_. Those men could have killed you had you interfered … I—it was your self-preservation, that's all. It wasn't your fault."

"Don't lie to me!" I cried out, shoving him aside. "I don't need your false pity."

"I'm not lying. I would never lie to you, Edward!"

I pushed him off my lap. He tumbled to the floor. For a span, we both were still. He did not speak, and neither did I.

When I finally parted my lips, my voice hissed with spiteful implications. I … I wasn't pleased with my words, but they raged inside my chest, battering organs and crushing heart-held hope, and escaped without my consent. "Wouldn't you, if it was necessary? About Alice? About us?"

Jasper flinched. He stared at me as if he did not recognize me.

Then: "Being spiteful and releasing your anger on me will not help the situation. You made a mistake, one that you must accept and learn from." _And I am sorry for you, that you had to witness it, but …_ "I am not yours to condescend and question. I love you, but I will not stand for it."

I shot across the room, snatching his hand from the doorknob. "No." Please, Jasper. _Please_.

He would not look at me then, and I knew that his decision would not bend; his will was of iron. _Perhaps you need a moment to make sense of things. I shall return soon enough._

**Jasper**

_Friday, July 15, 1954. 5:41 P.M._

Edward pressed his knee between my thighs, urging me closer.

It was not the most orthodox method of solving our issues, but sometimes one just needed to be shoved up against the wall and have another's tongue thrust into his mouth, losing all inhibitions and remembering only that one is desired and possessed.

One very valuable thing I had learned in these past fifty-some years: make-up sex is the best. Those who do not realize that I pity.

Maria, whose scheming nature ruled any natural impulses, knew which buttons to push, which practiced movements made me lose control; Alice catered to my repressed desires, gently coaxing them out and breathing life back into them. Edward made me weak-kneed, starved, with his innocent advances.

He was, undoubtedly, the most talented and least experienced of all my lovers (including the stray mortals I used to catch, back when I was under Maria's sway and their blood was lust-rich on my tongue). Yet, he bewitched me. Though I didn't quite understand it, I eagerly embraced his shy appeal.

"You're a fucking coward," I muttered, nipping at his earlobe. He gasped, hips rocking forward. "What did you hope to accomplish?"

He shook his head, lips parted and wet and swollen. Christ. "I-I don't know. O-oh!"

Before he registered it, I had him on the floor, straddling my hips; his child-like palms, artist fingers spread, were splayed across my chest. I felt his cock against my thigh, and I shivered in delight.

"Tell me." I caressed the bulge in his trousers, and he jerked against me. I smirked. "Why?"

"Because I was … afraid. And jealous."

My hands trailed around his body, one stopping at his hip, the other grasping his tight ass. Truly, the gods did no wrong when they made this man; his unruly hair was mussed, and, as he bit his lip to hold in his cries, I felt his acute pain when the venom burned. It edged the pleasure in razor forms, like stalactites or blistering icicles.

"Of?" Now he was beneath me, hastily yanking his shirt over his head, and I followed suit. The slacks were next to go, a tumble of discarded cloth and shed inhibitions. I loved him best like this, when Edward surrendered his naïve side to the animalistic creature lurking within, unsated and wanton.

"Alice," he breathed, and then we were on the bed, and we were bare and rutting like wild beasts.

"You shouldn't be. You're mine. She's not." I punctuated each curt sentence with a thrust, sending him against the headboard. He thrashed, moaning and gasping and giving one long, loud caterwaul, and it was quick and sudden and then he was coming, and a moment later, I was, and the seed coated our stomachs, and then we collapsed against one another.

And for now, all was well.

**Edward**

_Saturday, July 16, 1954_

"It's morning."

I sighed. "I know." Too soon day had come.

"I should leave."

"I know."

His hand remained tight on my hip, latching us together. "I want to stay." _I need to, Edward. When will I see you again?_

Once more, my chest heaved regretfully. I couldn't chase away thoughts of Jasper, but at least I knew that he would be safe from the Volturi; it would be worth it in the end.

Twisting, I squirmed in his embrace until my forehead was pressed against his chest. Softly, I kissed the bare skin.

I _hate_ good-byes.

"I … I don't know. Hopefully it will be relatively soon." How would I know what Jane had planned? The perverse child was beyond understanding. "Until then …"

_I'll miss you._ The words hung suspended between us, and neither of us dared to broach the phrase, terrified of its implications. Like Jasper's slip in his thoughts (_I love him-love, love, love him, love me__? __…_) I was still unsure of the emotions swirling within me. Though Jasper may have known his true course, I was still stranded by these unfamiliar feelings.

Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over my forehead, smoothing back my tangled hair. Sex didn't do much for its tidiness, apparently.

Then, he huffed, shoving me away. "Go. Get out." _Perhaps Jane will pity you. The sooner you leave, the sooner you will return._

My lips quirked at the saccharine sentiment; I gathered up my clothes and, casting him straying glances when I could not control myself, dressed. His eyes were shuttered, his face forcibly relaxed as though feigning sleep, and his muscles tense. Though I knew the others would smell me and know of my activities, it wasn't as though they were unaware, and I didn't have time to bathe-instead, I had spent the morn lounging with my lover. And then some, after the resting.

It really was a wonder to be forever seventeen.

But before I left, there was one more ritual to complete. A small one, really, but one that had struck a chord within me, reminiscent of newlywed couples. The note was already hidden within my palm, and I carefully slipped it into the folds of Jasper's slacks. I tossed his clothes onto the bed.

"Get up already. Stop being lazy, Jasper."

Imitating a roused mortal, he cast me a sleepy smile. His hand clutched at the bundle of fabric, fingers already seeking my short letter.

I swallowed. Never before had I been in his presence when he discovered them. Apparently, I wasn't as crafty as I had believed myself to be.

But I couldn't remain now. I wasn't yet ready to hear the intimate thoughts I knew Jasper had, wasn't prepared to face my own truth. Though he and I both knew our standing, neither of us had voiced it-I would not until he already had, and he refused to until I was ready. It made for an unusual standoff.

Pivoting sharply on my heel, I wrapped the Volturi cape about me.

I dared not turn to see Jasper's expression.

**A/N: Okay, so I figured I out to clarify a couple of things:**

**1). Jasper and Edward HAVE NOT had sex yet. In the vision, they begin to, but then Edward pulls away from Alice's mind. There will be a sexing scene when they finally do the dirty.**

**2). I'm assuming that, since the Volturi clean up vampire armies, either Aro or one of his henchmen would have come across Jasper. They would have known of his talents and reported to Aro accordingly. Also, I've increased Jasper's talents so that he can cause a fake adrenaline rush. This would result in increased strength, speed, and honed senses. Who wouldn't want a cooperating, power-charged army under their command?**

**3). Yes, that was Bella in one of the visions. And no, she will never, ever show up in this story again. I promise you guys that.**

**Reviews = love!**


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